For the Motherland!
by Gnaoh El Nart
Summary: [Rewrite] [AU] After bloodshed and hardship, humanity is as close as it can get to total unity. Now, they are eyeing toward the stars. What will be awaiting them over the horizon? Prosperity or more bloodshed? Either way, they must step forward, for such is the call of their Motherland. To the stars, on the roads left behind, they shall crave their own names into the History.
1. Prologue

**Hi guys. Long time no see.**

 **Some of you may have already read the previous story of mine "For Motherland! For Terra! For Rannoch!", and if so, you would probably notice my declaration to put that story under indefinite hiatus in order to write a new one. I promise to deliver a better version with coherent, cohesion and "more logic" (so to speak).**

 **Now, after quite a long time staying under the radar, I'm back to deliver my promise. I hope you guys can enjoy the new version. Still, I think I should note that I'm not a native speaker - Granted, I've been using English for long enough to make my skills comparable to one, but I don't think my vocabulary and grammar knowledge is "suffice" to make myself a native one. Therefore, if you spot any mistakes, please do not hesitate and tell me, I would be very grateful.**

 **Thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy this new version.**

* * *

=\=\=

The mere existence of atomic weapons implies the possibility of their use.  
\- Georgy Zhukov (1896-1974), Marshal of the Soviet Union, Soviet Army [Red Army, (former) Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

=\=\=

* * *

 **Terran Federation**

Our flag shall fly

 **Ministry of Education**

Vires in sapientia

 _/Accessing.../_

 **Universal database**

Welcome to the Database of the Terran Federation. This is a free online encyclopedia established by the Ministry of Education with the aims to promote study and intelligence for the public at large. All confirmed and verified progress of humanity as well as extra-terrestrial beings is recorded and stored here. This database is cited as the largest public database within the known realm of the Galaxy.

The system is equipped with AI assistance as well as online storage for every users. Please log in to use this database to the fullest extent. If you do not have an account yet, you can sign up for free.

 **Server** : Terra Nova planet

 **Username** : quangnm_vnghigh

 **Password** : [REDACTED]

Welcome back "Blazer". It is 09:32AM, 14th September 2180, on Horizon City, Terra Nova.

What do you want to search?

[Keywords] Class notes - Class 8 - Social study - January - Week 1

/ _Searching..._ /

 **Terran Federation**

\- History

\- Political system [Homework - Due next week]

\- Geography

\- Demographics

\- Economy

\- Military [Homework - Due next week]

\- Social policies

\- Culture

 _The first lesson contains notes on History and Geography, mostly on the first topic. Orimura-sensei seems to be affected strongly by her husband, a high-ranking commanding officer, Colonel, in the PAC Armed forces. She has already become... infatuated with history of warfare, and even some officers have to take tactics lessons from her. Crazy, both of them._

 _The fact that they are my uncle and aunt ain't help a bit..._

 **Overview**

Federation is defined as a group of states with a central government but independence in internal affairs. Terran is of or pertaining to the planet Earth. Hence, Terran Federation is an alliance of states originated from Earth with the job to represent humanity as a single unity. The TF is united not only on politics but also social, military and economy.

Capital, per constituent, is located on Geneva City, Earth. However, seats of government is located on Arcturus Station (in Arcturus system). The station itself is also a major trade hub and the Headquarter of the Armed forces.

While consisting of human only at the moment, the Federation does not forbid aliens from joining.

Last population count: 30 billion with the increase rate of 0.5%/year (2180)

Systems under control: 40

Systems with habitable planets: 12

Habitable planet: 10 - including Earth

Actual colony: 8 with 2 more in building

Space colonies: 6 (consisting group of 7~10 "cylinder colony systems")

 **History**

 _The formation of the Terran Federation is also the history of the 21st century. Officially, it is described as a time of loss and pain, of war and conflict, of blood and tear... Unofficially, Orimura-sensei describes it shortly as "a colossal fuck-up". The truth could not be further from there._

 _\- B_

"The Simmering problem"

 _Nowadays, two members of the Federation shedding blood over a piece of rock is a joke for every single of their citizens, but in the early 21st century, many citizens were clamouring for their government to do so - as long as it was not their blood. Great-granduncle Yasuo had to be the one shedding blood in their steed.  
_ _\- B_

Terran Federation is officially formed on 1 January 2100, but it has been considered as formed by 31 August 2080, ten years after the end of World War Three. It can trace its origin to the United Nations after World War Two and its successor (in spirit) Allied Nations block in World War Three. To keep it short, the Terran Federation rises thanks to the powerless of the United Nations in intervention of armed conflict.

The first 40 years of the 21st century:

\- Rise of terrorism leads to Iraq War and the subsequent insurgency (2003 - 2026)

\- Rise of nationalism leads to turmoil and conflict in Europe

\- Dispute in sovereign between China and ASEAN members

\- Poverty and hunger (cont.) in Africa, leading to extra problems

\- The diminish and discovery of fossil fuel in different parts of the globe

\- Global warming, extreme weather change, rise of sea level and other major environmental problems

In 2040s, the world suffered from a turmoil. Conflicts broke out, but no major war was launched - though it was just over the horizon. The rise of nationalism in East Asia and East Europe spelt trouble for many leaders then, some fascism movements were launched under the guise of free speech and nationalism. An arm race began among the countries.

With no peacekeeping operations being allowed by the Security Council (mostly due to politics), the United Nations continued to fail in its objective to maintain peace and security on Earth. The peace was just held on barely over everyone's heads. It ended on 2949 with the "Judgement" nuclear missiles from North Korea wiping out main cities (and US military bases) in South Korea, Japan, Guam and Philippines.

"The War" (2049-2055)

 _How the fuck can World War Three happen? No, it should be ask how World War Three happens and humanity still survives?  
_ _\- B_

The World War Three was kicked into gear due to Doomsday Protocol, resulting in a barrage of nuclear missile being simultaneously launched over the world. Thanks to the prior advances in electronics and surveillance system, the majority of the missiles was intercepted. However, the Judgement Day saw the death of nearly 200 million and large patches of lands being uninhabitable. The world was quickly thrown in disarray with armed conflict began soon after. A few small countries were annexed into larger ones, some major countries saw the separatists movement ceasing power, declaring part of their land independent. Worse, the religious extremists were able to launch a coup, taking control of a few already-unstable states.

All peacekeeping force, budget, support and power, contributed from each member of the United Nations, were withdrawn in the name of national secuirty

From late 2049 to early 2051, surviving countries slowly formed alliances, which shall become the founders of the Terran Federation later. The conflict slowly settled into two sides, the Allied Nations and the Theocratic League of Humanity. The first was a loose coalition of once bitter opponents with different political and social mindsets while most of the later could find their origins to the terrorist and extremist groups. The previous armed conflicts (or outright war) between members of each block was stopped and settled so that power could be focused on the common enemy.

On 14 February 2052 - "The Bloody Valentine", the League detonated an once-unaccounted-for nuclear warhead in Volgograd city, killing over twenty thousands people, a series of attacks in other forms over the globe robbed away the lives on two hundred thousands people in total. Enraged, the Allied Nations leaders sworn themselves to a relentless fight, only unconditional surrender, or the destruction of the League can stop the war. Operation Righteous, the largest military operation ever recorded in human's history, was launched on 22 June 2052 and ended with the loss of oil production site of the League.

In retaliation, the League launched a counter attack (Operation Nabiin [Prophet]) to break the deadlock on summer 2053. With the help of experimental weapons and mass concentration of armoured, the siege was lifted, pushing back the Allied greatly. The powered armoured suits TITAN were proven to be a deadly hunter-killer on the field. The Allied Nations counter-attacked with Operation Vistula on 9 May 2054. Orbital deployment was used for the first time, giving unparalleled degree of mobility for the attacking troops. The whole column of the League' army was flanked, surrounded and then cut off.

While numerous experimental weapons were deployed to save the situation, the TLH failed to deliver any real strategic success and had no choice but to abandon the attack, leading to Operation Freedom, the unsuccessful break out of the 6th Legion on 24 December 2054. During the fight, the home front of the League suffered a terrible blow. Most of the League's government was found to commit crime against humanity on the highest level. Instantly, the entire League was put into disarray and turmoil with uprising and rebellion, the most famous of which is Valkyrie Team composing of high-ranking officers. These two events quickly robbed away the last of the mobilised force of the League.

On 30 April 2055, Operation Victory began with vehicles, men and, for the first time, orbital support. With a high degree of co-ordination and support, the defence of the League was broken through. The Allied army quickly made contact with the Rebel army and both of them soon found working together with the hope to end the war quickly. By 22 May 2055, much of Natu City had been taken away from the League control, only the Bastion and the surrounding streets left. Three days later, on 25 May, after a heavy artillery shelling and bloody assault, the Bastion was taken down, and by 11:30AM, the blue banner of the Allied Nations flew over the roof of the castle, signalling the end of World War Three.

-*-* In short: World War Two bring the United Nations up in place of The League of Nation, and World War Three replaces United Nations with Terran Federation (or Allied Nations, at that time)

"The Recovery"

 _Uncle Quang Anh always says that Humans are capable of the greatest feats of honour and deepest feats of treachery in a very short span time. He has a point. He always has._

 _\- B_

On November 2055, Marshal Al-khalib, the only leader of the Theocratic League of Humanity having no crime against humanity, was elected as the next leader of the League. A series of edict were issued to temporary stabilise the chaos of the post-war battlefield. Thanks to a strict law code applied on both sides of the battlefield, the anarchy and chaos were quickly contained and pacified.

The Nuremberg Trial (the Second) was held and convicted the League leadership with crimes against humanity, most of them would have to face death penalty (by a firing squad). Only a handful of high-ranking officials from the League were spared, thanks to them not being in any of those crimes.

In 2056, invitation to join the Allied Nations was sent to all members of the Theocratic League of Humanity and by August, the League was effectively disbanded and all of its former members join the Allied Block with equal right as other members, creating the first true democratic for every nations/states on the Earth. The first meeting of the Allied Nations in 2057 quickly set the goal of the recovery process, in which the rebuilding of infrastructure and re-establishment of necessities are right on top. Certain military technologies were also released to the public with the hope of boosting the recovery speed.

It worked.

\- Traffic: The public system was totally recovered in 2061, but it has been usable by the beginning of 2059 already. Airports and sea ports were rebuilt, allowing quick and mass transportation over the continent. In 2080, the first United Rail Network was completed, giving non-stop passage around the world on high-speed train

\- Infrastructure: Schools and hospitals were prioritised and became function-able in 2056. Rationing of power and water was stopped in 2060. Students were (and are) given granted and scholarships, despite the harsh conditions of the world for a better tomorrow.

\- Food: Vat-grown food became the norm, and with cheaper price, higher nutrition content than traditional food, it quickly became the main source of food for mankind.

 _Traditional food was (and is) still considered as having the better taste (but for experts and a few rich kids only)_

\- Environment: The spread of radiated land and water was stopped and contained, though not cured.

\- Technology: Electric vehicles were made cheap, powerful and sleek instantly after the war. Electronics earns the first "self-aware" AIs, Adam and Eva respectively. Powered armoured suit ("Mech") was released to the public, quickly boosting the industrial power of mankind

\- Economy: An united internal market was established in 2059, allowing free flows of goods with little custom checking. A single form of currency was also created in 2062, term "credit", to stabilise the economy.

-*-* Result: By 2070s, the world has recovered from the scar of war.

"The Ascension"

 _That is a terrible name. I need a new phrase to dub for this section  
_ _\- B_

In 2083, after a long time of research and study, most of which was done independently, a group of scientists proved that certain signal can be transmitted faster than light, opening up the inter-planet and inter-stellar communication.

In 2085, the mathematics for faster-than-light travel was completed by a group of AI, leading to the first FTL probe in 2088 and first FTL manned flight in 2092.

Seeing the chance, the bid to colonise Moon and Mars was put forward, prompting the leaders the world to sit down and discussing the progress of space exploration. Even while sharing the same Allied Nations identity, no leader wanted to re-start another Space Race, but they also wanted their men to be the first to claim space for mankind...

The solution was simple: bring everyone under the same banner, not to fight against a common enemy, but to unite humanity under the same flag. And thus, the Charter of Peace, Unity, Prosperity and Security was penned and signed on 1 January 2100 to celebrate the launching of the First Mars Expedition. The blue banner of the Federation was introduce live when it was planted on the Red Planet in the overwhelming support of the population. From then one, humanity had been officially united under the same banner, not to wage war, but to promote peace and prosperity.

And then, during the live transmission from Mars, the scientists noted a strange structure near the landing zone, hidden under the rocks. That action forever changed the mindset of humanity and further strengthened the newly-found unity.

Aliens were confirmed to be a reality.

-*-* Result: How does humanity get united? By PUPS... On the other hand, it would remedy a few problems if we meet real and alive aliens in the future

 _/File closed/_

Your note still needs... some re-ordering, but at least your hand writing is still illegible for my touch screen.

I hope you have enough details to complete your homework "Blazer". If not, I will suggest you a few light reading, even if for the sake of easy sleeping at night.

What do you want to search next?

[Keywords] Homework folder - Class 8 - Social study - January - Week 2

 _/One file found - "Homework draft. The structure of Terran Federation. Political and Military"/_

 _/Opening file/_

 _This is the script of the self-recording file. Not the official report. Requiring real work to hand in the real work, as in using hands to type the report... At least traditional writing by hand is not compulsory. Dictating for Maria to write is out of question. Orimura-sensei will have my dick for that, assuming the Class Rep leaves anything behind after chewing me out._  
 _\- B_

 _Blazer, you really need to re-arrange your note, this is too messy. You have to much redundant details. Please remove them, lest you will have another C. Your parents shall be most... displeased if such happens again._  
 _\- Maria, Personal Assistant, MRA-198_

The Terran Federation is an alliance and union of eight coalition-nations on political, economical, social and military, originated from Earth. Total population count: 20 billion, total star systems under control and with habitable planets: 30 and 10, total space colonies: 20 (the biggest is Side 1 in Solar system), total mining outpost: approximately 20000.

An internal market is fairly developed, thanks to a standardised system of laws that apply in all member states. Terran Federation policies aim to ensure the free movement of people, goods, services, and capital within the internal market, enact legislation in justice and home affairs, and maintain common policies on trade, agriculture, fisheries, and regional development. Freedom of movement is enacted, allowed free passage (no border control) between members of the Terran Federation. A single currency is created along with the birth of the Federation, termed "credit".

The Federation also enacts a high-standard social policies in recent time (once the economy is sufficient to power the system), the results include, but not limit to, free public healthcare and education service, free public transport for students and elder, a long paid-leave for pregnant (both parents counted), religion and speech freedom... However, the society also values a high degree of discipline and unity, severe punishments, ranging from social works to actual jail serving time, are consider the norm.

Serving in the military is compulsory for any people within the age of 18 to 30 with either no job or study for longer than one year. However, dropping the study to join serve in the armed forces receive warm welcome from many people in certain regions. There are three branches of the Armed forces, including the Ground force, the Navy and the Marine.

 **The Navy** , or to be more technically correct, Void Navy, is a newly-created force but the most formidable thanks to their arsenal of heavy firepower. Being called the Shield of the Federation, their job is to provide security of inter-stellar travel and trading, space exploration and colonisation.

 **The Ground force** , currently the majority of the army, is the Hammer of the Federation. Their duty at the moment is garrison on Earth and other colonies, and being the main deterrent against any hostile intent against the Fed.

 **The Marine** , last but not least, is the Dagger of the Federation. For the lack of number, they make up in skills, aggressiveness and speed. They are the fast reaction force of the Fed, 'first in, last out'

The military is also divided into three "types"

 **The Regular** consists of the mobilised force, they are professional and volunteer force. However, during war time, they can (and will) take conscription.

 **The Federation Guard** , technically still the regular type, but they are not the the mobilised force but the garrison one, aiming to hold the line until reinforcement arrives. Main destination of conscripted personnel.

 **The Militia** , practically "weekend warriors", the one with the highest fluctuation in performance. They can be either deadly warriors, or simply sacred citizens hoping to protect their houses.

Political-wise, the Federation does not follow the three separated bodies like the old US of A, but follow the example of the German with five permanent constitutional bodies. It is believed that this system allows the highest efficient, smoothness in operation yet still maintain the democracy and supervision upon the government itself.

The most powerful figure is the **Chancellor** , or the Federal Chancellor, the head of government and being responsible for all policies introduced, he, or she, is practically the head of the executive branches.

The **Federation Assembly** with 300 members, representing the Federation population as a whole, function as the forum where differing opinions about the policies the country should be pursuing are formulated and discussed. The most important tasks performed by the Federation Assembly are the legislative process and the parliamentary scrutiny of the government and its work. The other legislative office is the **Federation Council** , also with 300 members, represents the members of the Fed itself, acts mostly in advisory capacity and has the power to give the consent to passing laws, regulations and other changes.

The **Federation President** , while mostly being the "ceremonial" figure, has certain power, including proposing (and even dismissing) members and candidates for the Chancellor, Minister, Federal judges and civil servants. He, or she, also has the ability to dissolve and convene the Assembly.

The last constitutional body is the **Federal Supreme Court** , the final court of appeal for all civil and criminal cases as well as hearing appeal unconstitutional laws and regulations.

The members of the Federation, at this day, number at nine and being listed in the economical power as followed: United States of North America, Federation of Eastern Europe Republics, Hegemony of Oriental, Pacific - Asia Coalition, Western Europe Combine, Democratic Republic of India, South America Alliance, Empire of the Sun and United Theocratic Kingdoms. Each members also have certain quirks and stereotypes...

 **UNSA (United States of North America)** , while being the most powerful member, both in economics and military power, is suffering from the highest crime rate and proportional of its population in jail, racism, sexism and religious bigots are still evident. The gap between rich and poor is the largest among the whole Federation. On the other hand, the economics power id drawing in multiple bright minds, making USNA the home of countless inventions and success.

 **FEER (Federation of Eastern Europe Republics)** , being known as alcoholic and bad-mannered, owns the most industrial power base and the most colorful martial tradition among the entire Federation, their products are considered as unbreakable due to a _sekret_ material known as either Stalinium or Putinium. While not sophisticated, their products are highly durable, fit for founding colony and harsh weather conditions. On the other hand, corruption (and alcoholism) is slowing down their development.

While not the most powerful member, no other member can enjoy a rich and diversified culture as the **HO (Hegemony of Oriental).** They also boast the largest workforce and raw material in the entire Federation. A strict system, thought the lower officials seem to lack innovation. They are also able to produce the highest number in tonnage of ship annually and able to field a high amount of material ant any given time.

Formed from once-small nations, **PAC (Pacific - Asia Coalition)** is well-known for its diplomatic prowess - as well as a well-trained, high morale armed forces to back up its power. While not having the most economic power, the state-member itself is the best land for investment and a dream land for small entrepreneurs. Even if the Communist Party is holding power in the region.

 **WEC (West Europe Combine)** , once a economic powerhouse, is now a shadow of itself - mostly thanks to World War Three. However, the state is the origin of multiple engineering achievements. It is considered that the best-quality vehicles are made in WEC, by WEC, with WEC standard, of course, the cold, distant and over-professional attitude of the populace has been giving tourists some trouble.

There are great computer scientists and engineers, then there are Indians. This stereotype stays true for **DRI (Democratic Republic of India)** for countless years, despite the attempts of Bollywood in introducing other sides of the society. Considering that the best AIs are programmed by Indians, that fame would stick with them for a long time - along with the stigma of high poor rate.

Former enemy and "trouble-nation" of the world, **SAA (South American Alliance)** is reclaiming its position with the production of spices , silks as well as having the most beautiful landscape. Religion travel is popular, even if being watched closely by the security. The main problem in the area is facing is drug cartels, who are practically a power unto themselves.

 **EoS (Empire of the Sun)** , another black sheep of the Federation in whispers, has become a valuable member of the Terran. Being the breadbasket of the whole Fed has its own benefits after all. Originated from Africa, they are the one who understand the severity of poverty and huger, leading them to enjoy the lowest gap between rich and poor. However, there is little room for easy investment for foreign fund.

 **UTK (United Theocratic Kingdoms)** , originated from the Trouble Spot of the 21st century, is still a power exporter - they simply change from fossil fuel to fission/fussion and anti-matter power. It is said that their prayers (to their Gods) everyday keep them from having those explosive factories blowing up in their faces. However, they are also suffering from the highest poverty rate and inadequate armed forces.

 _/File closed/_

 _You need to do your homework, Blazer. Deadline is due in three days' time... Set automatic reminder at 8:00PM tonight._  
 _\- Maria, Personal Assistant, MRA-198_

* * *

 **I hope that this is... suffice to introduce the alternate System Alliance. It is called Terran Federation now, a better name of united mankind in my humble opinion.**

 **Please Read and Review. Thank you for your wonderful support.**

* * *

 **Edit: The overhaul is completed on 25 September following the advice of some SpaceBattles forum members. The chapter here provides basic world building, and it can be practically skipped to reach the main story line.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Next chapter, coming right up**

* * *

 **Location:  
** Outpost Hotel-Omega 129  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental

 **Time:  
** 14:02 - Terran Standard time  
22 December 2200

A young and dark-skinned Asian-origin man wearing a grey-black hard suit was running on a ground of the hangar while securing a full-on helmet (which was also painted in black). He was not late, yet, but he preferred having certain gap time, just in case his superiors were having a bad day and wanting to vent off. Safety first, after all, he still loved his job pretty much. Being a civilian specialist for the armed forces, despite the good pay and insurance, was a very tough job, after all. Long shift, hard requirement on accuracy as well as ergonomics, not to mention the punctuality. It was not a surprise when not many people can actually survive in a harsh environment like that.

Too bad, they had not heard about Engineering graduates. When, or if, a student was able to graduated from his course, he (or she) had already had a few years of intensive study under the belt. For them, deadlines were practically a daily and mundane job, lack of sleep was simply the norm and junk food could be considered as dinner. Throw in the most prestigious engineering school of the Hegemony and a long study time, and the Magnificent Nine had been born. Nine young engineers, coming from nine respective member-states of the Federation, made friends with each other during university and quickly became a band of brothers. Then, after graduation, they applied for the same job - civilian specialists for the Engineering Corp of the Armed forces.

As luck had it, they were all selected and tasked with the same job: upgrading a frontier outpost. Granted, it was a place out of nowhere, but the pay was good, not to mention that all of them had... questionable sanity (courtesy of Engineering school), and they all wanted to prove their worth and skills, even if they had to "enlist" for one full year.

Oh, and they had the chance to pilot a Mech, officially known as FAP (Force Amplifier Platform). That was a mechanical bipedal and headless suit, up to three meters in height but just shy of two-point-five ton in weight. The suit itself was a real bless for construction, easy to use, highly cost-effective, not to mention that controlling one was highly poetic. Its introduction was compared with the appearance of cranes and containers, being able to seriously increase the construction speed by multiple times. Of course, its original introduction was on battlefield, where it was referred as a Reaper - for good reasons. On the bright side, the Mech had two distinct branches now, one military version and one civilian version, and the Magnificent Nine is well-versed in the second one. For that reason, they had their own rooster to determine who should be the pilot for the day, and the Asian man was one of the lucky two for the day.

Today, he arrived just in time. The hangar, named Hangar Four was reserved for the Mech unit, which included his team as well as the military mechanics. Together, the unit had been able to redesign the catapult launching system, allowing quick deployment of various vehicles with little and easy adjustments. Of course, the system was still in prototype stage, requiring intensive testing. That was an extra reason for the Magnificent Nine to go crazy, again.

Upon reaching the hangar, the Asian young men quickly prepared himself for the job. First, he scanned over the datapad, checking to see if there was any problem being found on the suit, which yielded no result, allowing him to begin the work in earnest. Just a dozen of meters away, the other pilot of the team, Yuri Malasheko, had already finished his preparations. Looked like he had no choice but to speed up then.

Stepping into the suit, he quickly had the restrains put on, securing him on his pilot stand. The transparent cockpit glass was closed down next, sealing the interior of the Mech to the environment. Considered that his working environment was out in space, he definitely wanted his suit to be sealed off effectively. The screen soon lit up with HUD being activated, quickly running its own diagnostic program. Meanwhile, mechanical bracers were slowly purring inside the suit, snapping on the pilot's limbs and hips. These bracers would "copy" and amplify his movements in the robotic suit's limbs (thus the name of the suit). Finally, the results off the self-checking program were laid down on the HUD - all green. The suit was ready to be deployed.

"This is Mech Builder Zero-One, Tran Kien Vuong, _Dragoon_ , my suit is green, ready to deploy. Over."

"This is Central, we heard you loud and clear. _Ivanov_ is also reporting green. One minute countdown for air releasing, confirm? Over."

"This is Dragoon, one minute. Solid copy."

"Stalinu here, affirmative, one minute. Over."

The cranes holding the pair of Mech then received the order to release, letting the two pilot experience a brief free fall before hitting the ground. The warning yellow lights quickly followed, flaring up with the too-usual siren. Everyone near the suit retreated from the hangar in an orderly fashion toward the main hallway behind the door, and then, once everyone had gotten out, the giant metal doors behind them slammed down with a thundering shake. Mixed in with the siren sound was the revving sound of the pumps, which were sucking the air out of the room before releasing the hangar to the vacuum state.

Meanwhile, the two suits were walking toward their own catapult rail with thundering steps. Well, thundering would be an exaggeration, with the air being slowly sucked away, it would become increasingly harder to transmit sound, not to mention that the two pilots were quite skillful in their own rights. The floor of the hangar only vibrated slightly with the steps of the two suits, and nothing else. The feet of the Mech suits quickly slammed on the bracers on the magnetic rails and they are secured by a series of champers, mostly to cancel out the inertia during the acceleration process.

And then, on each of the pilot's HUD, a red warning pop-up appeared, warning them about low pressure outside. They paid the warning no attention, though, the two pilots were used to that already. Then, the countdown of one minute finished with the light in the hangar being turned off. Both the pilots bent down the knees to brace themselves for the acceleration. The radio came back to life with new information from Central, warning them about the opening hangar door. It was more of a formality than anything else.

In front of the eyes of both pilots, the hangar door slowly opened. From inside a darkened room with nothing but warning yellow light to lit up, the view would be fairly threatening to many people. Too bad, for both young men, they were not a part of the "many", they were used to pressure situations like this already, darkness was not a danger, but a... companion for them. Too many nights staying awake, and too many tests done in the shadows and dark rooms. For as long as they could control the situation, they had nothing to fe

The door had fully opened, revealing the dark beyond it. Space, the final frontier... It was quite poetic for the first few times though...

"This is _Dragoon_. Ready for launch. Over."

" _Ivanov_ reporting. Green to go. Over."

"This is Central, we got you clear. Flight path data has been sent to your HUD. _Ivanov_ , you will be launched first, then comes _Dragoon_ , twenty seconds interval. On our mark. Over."

Yuri quickly launched his suit after that. To be fair, that guy was really dedicated to the job. Other than you, he was always the first to volunteer for the job or project. However, he was also the first in your team to know about a new entertainment site. Be it a discount night in a restaurant or a bar, or even a rick concert, he was always able to know about them before hand and drag the whole group together. Not that Vuong minded it though, he just found it amusing to think about. A hard-face man was the one who was the most knowledgeable on having fun...

His turn to sortie arrived quickly enough, the suit was hurled forward at a moderate acceleration, just enough for him to know that he was going increasingly faster, but it was not even comparable to roller coasters. However, the feeling ended quickly once the Mech lifted off from the hangar, telling him that he was moving at a constant speed. The knowledge here was just basic Physics of course. If the net force applying on an object was zero, its velocity would be unchanged, and with him being in space and there was nothing pushing on him, the "drop dead" feeling ended pretty quickly.

Then, soon enough, a marker in arrow shape with a numbered box appeared on the HUD. That would be his beacon to move to the working site, installed to keep the newbies from getting lost. Flexing the feet a bit, Vuong activated the small thruster being installed on the Mech's legs, which were nothing more than CO2 canisters with high-pressured gas. This helped the Mech to fly in a curve, slowly changing its orientation toward the intended direction. The exhaustion phase was pretty short, there was no "air resistance" around here to cancel the redundant part of the boost, meaning that either he had to be very precise in blowing out, or he would have to blow gas in the opposite direction to reach a stable flight path.

It was fairly nerve-wrecking for someone being untrained and lacking mental altitude, but not for these two men, they had already built up their resistance via the hellish study at university, not to mention that they originated from the lands being (in)famous for "tough motherfuckers". Besides, they had their friends sitting in the control room, ready to assist at any given moment. Those friends were silent on the radio at the moment, but it did not mean they were not paying attention - there was simply nothing strange or dangerous for them to notify the pilots.

Slowly, the two Mech suits were approaching the end of the Outpost's exterior. Sticking close to the hull of the station, the two pilots enjoy their time to enjoy their home for the past year. Built with the sheer practical mindset of humanity, the Outpost was built with module to satisfy all the requirements that it may have to perform. Then, Hotel-Omega 25 was tasked with providing security for the border areas, a minor staging ground for the armed forces, as well as being a lab, co-operating with Everest University. A diversed list of mission meant a series of add-on modules to be added, and at least half of them had been built by the Mech team already.

Their job for the day was to installed a new hub for agriculture purpose - something about increasing the amount of fresh vegetables on the station. The tools and materials had been stashed inside the neighbour connection hub from the previous day already, which would save them considerable time for the day. Aiming for the outer end of the hub, both Vuong and Yuri waited until the right moment, as notified by the on-board computer, and exhausted their CO2 canister forward to slow down. They extended the mechanical arms and quickly grabbed on the handle at the end of the hub, looking inside via the transparent window at the end.

The door, being under the controlled of their teammates inside the Outpost, was quickly opened, allowing Yuri to launch a grapple on the crates inside. Once the crates containing pre-fabricated items had been pulled out, the two pilots began their work quickly. For Vuong, the work here was almost like building with Lego blocks - just like when he was just a child. Turning on the music player program in the Mech, he turned the whole of his mind for the job at hand. Getting focus was really important for an engineer, after all.

One minute-light away from the two pilot, a Relay stood there, silent, seemingly dead. It was originally quite a sight to behold, but time passed and every one on the Outpost quickly found it to be... normal and mundane. Since then, apart from regular checking, the Relay did not even get into their reports apart from the line "everything is normal".

Little did they know, that was about to change.

* * *

 ** _Iktomi_** \- Heavy Scout Flotilla, Patrol Fleet, Quarian Migrant Fleet

 **Location:**  
Next to 313 Relay – Uncharted region of Space

 **Time date:**  
15:30  
14th March, 2727 (Galactic Standard)

 **Mission**  
Under unsanctioned and unofficial mission as ordered by the Admiral Board

"Captain, reporting for status?"

"The Relay has been activated, sir. We only had to go through it."

"Understood... are you sure about your mission?"

"Yes sir."

"Are you aware that we may not be able to rescue you, in case you were intercepted by Turian patrol, or worse, those four-eyes get a hold of you?"

"Yes sir. I have met those trigger-happy _bosh'et_ before, they are disciplined, but they lack our ingenuity. And the less talk about the four-eye pirates, the better, I got five of their ships, they had none of mine."

"... Alright captain. I just want to be sure. Proceed Captain. _Keelah se'lai_."

" _Keelah se'lai_ Admiral. Zare'Rozu vas Iktomi out."

The face of the Admiral blinked out of existence. Captain Rozu sighed, a sick worried feeling grumbling in his stomach. The Admiral Board had already decided to risk opening a Mass Relay, number 313, which would lead to Mass Relay number 314. It was illegal under Council Law, but the Quarian people were not a member anymore. To be more precise, their membership was temporarily suspended, but anyone with half a brain could read between the lines.

The Quarians, for all intents and purposes, had been left in disgraced. The Geth Rebellion was originally his people's mistake, but no one extended a hand to help them, so much for an _united galactic community_. As a result, for four centuries, they had to live on a bunch of rag tag ships, a fifth-rated armada, of which Zare knew that the "expiration date" of which was coming. The Fleet had sixteen more galactic months to survive at most, providing the cannibalise some of their own ships - the need of many outweighs the need of few. Oh, and that had not taken the skirmish from a few pirate bands into account, there were some very close calls with them in the last six months.

Five more fights, and the Rearguard Fleet would be neutralised, three more after that, and the Heavy Scout would be a derelict of the past. They needed a new system to mine and gain raw materials, or the Fleet would soon be killed off, putting the Quarian on the list of extinct species. In short, his mission was critical, a "do-or-die". But as the Admiral said earlier: _Keelah se'lai_. That line alone was more than enough to put him on the job. aking a deep breath, he turned to the navigator, a young but highly capable Vias'Vula vas Iktomi, and said:

"Helm, punch through. Take us through the Relay."

"Aye aye Captain."

Everyone knew it: there would be no turning back now. They may be shot for breaking a rule, but if their Motherland needed them to do it, they would do that in a heartbeat. In addition, it would not upset the balance of the galaxy if one more _suit rat_ , would it not? The Mass Relay suddenly brightened up, and his ship boosted toward the unknown. In less than a blink of an eye, _Iktomi_ reached the other side of the Relay.

The well-armed frigate was pulled through the mysterious and ancient artefact, travelling through thousands of light years in just a few moments. However, what awaited them on the other side of the Relay was beyond their comprehension. They were not alone in the new system, someone had been there before them. Further by the look of it, those people had already claimed the system for their own. Therefore, they, the Quarians, were the intruders here.

"Captain! Contact report! A heavy mass ahead! Ten light seconds!"

"What? Repeat that Navigation?"

"Sir! Our sensors report the presence of a space station in the system, ten-light seconds from us... Oh, and they seem to have one cruiser nearby, sir."

"Captain! According to our data, this system should still be empty, un-colonised."

"I know that Helm!"

All crew member was staring at the screen, watching the floating structure in front of their ship. The structure seemed to share the similarity with other Council-affiliated space station with a giant cylinder structure and a ring on top. However, that was where the it ended, instead of a smooth and curvature surface like the ones built by the Council, this space station was clearly assembled from clear and distinct blocks, rectangular block. It made the whole space station looked... mechanical somehow. There were even add-ons attached on the ring, which instinct and experience told Raze that those were some deadly weapons. That was even regarding a greyish block at the bottom of the central section.

Captain Rozu was tensing up, considering all possibilities while watching the strange construction. He had originally considered that it was built by the Council itself, or by one of the Big Three races - Asari, Turian or Salarian. _Keelah_ , it could be even the four-eyes in an attempted to raise both their martial power as well as the number of their... techincal indentured servants, or Quarian slaves to be short. But as fast as he considered those, he quickly diminished them. The station here was not "fit" with what he had seen. It was not as curvy like the structures built by the Asari, nor having as many sensors and antennas like the Salarian. The space docks on the station were not as visible nor as numerous as could be seen on a Turian outpost, and it was also... too clean, too clean for a Batarian outpost. Other races like the Elcor or Hanar, or Drell, well, they did not even have a space force, meaning an outpost like that was practically impossible for them.

Following the rules of elimination, there was a single answer left: a new race. A new alien race. A First Contact situation. A race seemed to value practicality over the comfort while working in space, functionality over beauty. And if his gut was telling him correctly, they were not someone strange to bloodshed.

To be fair, Zare had no idea if he should feel dread or relief. On the one hand, the new race would not be informed about the... stained reputation his race had to endure. On the other hand, he had no idea what the new race was like. Warmonger or Peace lovers? Religious practitioners or technical specialists? Expansionists or isolationists? Too many unknowns, too many risks... He knew one thing very well, as the Captain of this ship, he was responsible for the lives of every single crew member. A wrong move and it would be dangerous to them all...

There was no way back, however. The Fleet was depending on him to deliver them some good news. Even if these aliens were not inclined to help, it is still worth a try. After all, even if they did not want to help, there was no harm in trying. Tapping his finger on the helmet a few times to calm down, Captai Rozu stood up and ordered his crew. Authority was evident in his speech, experience and seniority were bringing the most out of him:

"Comm, open a channel, send them a First Contact package. Attach the captain's greeting and the Codex, the short Quarian version, to them too."

"Yes sir!"

Even though Raze was still looking straight ahead, he knew that his crew was stealing glances toward him, silently considering his order. To be fair, they were not even able to get out of the daze yet. It was not every day - or year, even - that one could find himself (or herself) in a First Contact situation. At least his crew was still able to work, a message of greeting was quickly sent, even if the Communication officer was still looking puzzling with his head tilting to the side. The time was ticking away slowly, waiting for something to happen.

Every one in the bridge just held their breath, no one dared to even speak or breath loudly. They were all just too stressed to do anything else. Fingers on the console, they were ready for whatever might come - even if they had no idea on what to come next.

Then, the Comm officer of the Iktomi suddenly yelled out:

"Sir, I get an incoming message!"

"On screen!"

An alien appeared on the holo screen. He, if the appearance can be described as belonged to a male, looked… brown, but not dark brown. More like a pink light brown if Zare had to try. In addition, his outlook was not very different from a male Asari (if there was such a specimen), minus the skin colour. He just did not have a 'rack' or the tentacle above his head. Instead, he had something… like fur? Well, the universe was vast after all. It was only a matter of time before he found any such alien. Zare's train of thought was interrupted by the firm and low voice coming from the alien. If he had to guess, the individual here would be a military commander, no-nonsense, firm stance and his eyes were just like lances trying to pierce someone's soul:

 _"Attention alien vessel, this is Captain Lee Xijang of Terran Navy. On behalf of Earth and her colonies, I welcome you to our home. I hope that we can share a peaceful coexistence and cooperation. But should we dare to attack us, considered yourself warned. Plata O Plomo. Lee, out."_

The message ends abruptly. If anyone had to try, they could use the word "shocked" to describe Captain Zare'Rozu now. He did not understand a single word of that… alien, yet, in the same time, he had to analyse the implication of just meeting one. Another chime reported the incoming of a new message.

This time, it was a First Contact package. A vid was played, first showing a blue flag with a thick white stripe running horizontally in the middle. Right at the centre of the stripe was a white ring, inside it was two branches of leaves crossing, cover another and smaller white ring. Inside most was a ring of eight four-point star forming a circle around the ninth and the biggest star.

Zare was bit puzzled when seeing it. If he had to guess, he would say it was the flag of the alien, but the nine stars trouble him somehow. It was like he knew something should be there, but he had no idea what it should be. Then a series of flags were shown, nine in total. It was not until now that he knew what the missing part was. These aliens were not as fully united as he thought them to be. Nine flags meant eight… Clans? Nations? But with the images of smiling children and men and women working together, those "clans" could be said as friends and partners, if not full-fledged allies. After all, they were sharing the same blue flag as shown initially. A peaceful conglomerate perhaps?

The next part of the package was the real mine. They contained some key notes for the language, judging from the way data was stored. In addition, based on the format of the information, Zare had a suspicious that those aliens had just sent him their equivalent of the Short Codex to the ship. He did not waste any time before feeding such into the ship's VI so that his technicians could analyse it. Then, it seemed like everything would be playing out just fine from that moment. Both sides had already sent their respective First Contact package and they were in the process of translating the language of the other. The remaining part was to wait until the specialists had done building up their translation program, which might take a while.

However, Iktomi quickly found itself in another trouble.

"Captain, I have the initial scanning result here. It is just passive scan so you have nothing to worry about."

"Go ahead?"

"... I find no trace of eezo on their station nor their ship, sir."

"WHAT?!"

That line was not screamed by the Captain, but by other bridge crews. They were stunned completely beyond reason. What would be the chance for them to encounter a new civilisation on a "disavowed" mission, and to find the said civilisation had no eezo for their system? It would be fairly slim, practically none. And even then, having no eezo would be a real... issue. It was completely against the norm of the universe they know. A ship without eezo was a dead one. Yet, they were watching the proof of the inverse: a station and a cruiser-size ship were seemingly functioning properly, despite having no Element Zero.

Now, Zare had no choice but to pray for these aliens to be merciful. Little did he know, the commander of the space station, Xijang Lee, was praying the same thing.

* * *

 **Location:  
** Outpost Hotel-Omega 129  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental

 **Time:  
** 14:38 - Terran Standard time  
22 December 2200

"What do you say? Repeat!"

"We just met the alien! Now get inside quickly pilot! Captain doesn't want to have unnecessary risk here."

"Central, Dragoon here. Copy. We will start going back to Hangar Four immediately. Over."

"This is Central, we heard you loud and clear."

The Ensign sighed deeply, and loudly enough for Xijang to hear. To be fair, he could not blame the poor and young officer. After all, he felt like he was in an urgent need to drink. Preferably with a lot of tequila, even if it was the way he met his second girlfriend... Taking another deep breath, he spoke out loud to the Command Centre:

"Attention, as the resident ranking officer of Outpost Hotel - Omega 29, I declare Combat Condition Level 4. All unauthorised personnel is required to stay inside the Outpost and put on their hard suits. Comm, send a message to High Command and Arcturus, also, send a message to Lieutenant General Richard Williams, tell him to start evacuating citizen and mobilise the troops of Shanxi Garrison."

Many eyes got widened after that. While Level 4 did not enforce the use of hard suit, there was still a possibility that things would go horribly wrong and those aliens would attack the Outpost. That, in turn, would cause multiple death simply by sucking people to the vacuum, where people could die very fast, and no one wanted to risk it here. After all, human had already made enough movies and video games on the basis of a First Contact gone (horribly) wrong. In every single one of them, human was virtually wiped out or beaten down to one knee. Furthermore, as military personnel working in space, it had become an unsung rule for each of them to watch or play at least one such movie or video game.

Terran Federation never did anything half-heartily, nor they lack a contingency plan for any possible scenario.

The Communication officer reported:

"Sir, I have sent a message to Shanxi and Arcturus already. Shanxi Garrison confirmed that the message was received and understood, Arcturus AI just confirmed that our message had been received via QEC. Expected 15 minutes before High Command send an answer."

"Alright... So we have nothing else to do now... Serina! Any progress on decoding the alien's language?"

A bright blue hologram of a Caucasian woman appeared on the commander's deck. She had a slim and a less-than-average bust, though no one dared to comment the later part to the station's AI. Bad things had already happened to the crazy crew members of the station. Flipping her long smooth hair, she replied with a very chic accent:

"Not much sir. Even with the wealth of information from the ship, it would still take us at least an hour to have a basic translation program. However, I recommend to wait for at least three hours so that the quality of the program is more trustworthy. But on the other hand, it would be much faster if you allow me to hack into their system, I may be able to complete a translation matrix in 30 minutes and conduct an intelligence operation in the same time."

Xijang scratched his chin. To be honest with himself, he had considered that option. Serina was a third-generation Artificial Intelligence, meaning she was highly capable of conducting cyber warfare. However, Xijang had no intelligence on these aliens' capability, if they did not find out Serina's hack, it was not a problem. But if they found, it would ignite a First Contact War. As a fan of the _Rubio_ franchise, he knew how terrible that sound. Moreover, in case of the intruding attempt was find out, they may suspect Serina was an AI (which was a correct assumption) and if they had hostile relationship with AI...

No, this strategy was simply too risky. In other words, this decision was above his pay grade. But now, he was the highest ranking officer in the area, responsibilities fell on him to decide the final verdict.

"Negative Serina. We have no idea what they are capable of. Better play it straight and honest for now."

"Understood Captain. I'm going back to build up the translation matrix and monitor the weapon distribution process now. Should I arm the Mech team too? They have received basic training after all."

"... That's fine, but keep those operators on the second line, guarding the civilian hub, and make sure no one see our Marines in full gear running around."

"Roger that sir. Is there anything else sir?"

Xijang blinked his eyes a few times, hoping to get an idea, which he did, but he knew that it was plain crazy. There was simply too much risk in that. If he played it wrong, he could put everyone on board in jeopardy. As a commander, that idea was plain sickening. However, he had no other choice. Continuous communication was a key feature in building trust, all kind of trust, be it between humans or between humans and other species. It was correct, in theory at least. Taking another deep breath, he said slowly:

"Yes, I'm planning to invite those aliens on board. Is there any objection?"

The bridge turned silent. There was no one voicing disagreement, but no one following his idea neither. It was... normal after all, the whole situation had been bizarre from the beginning. Then, a soft voice sounded behind his back. English, with a slight accent in the voice:

"I agree with the Captain. I recommend having them docked at Dock 1. It is also our primary dock, fitting for official occasion like this. In addition, we are able to flood the Hangar with our men quickly, just in case things go south."

It was Commander Cho Minhu, though every one called her "Mina" when off-duty. A highly-capable officer, even if slightly unimaginative and rigid. Normally, she would oppose to such a crazy idea But this day was not a normal day, requiring her to alter her standard train of though a bit. If she recommended such an idea, it meant that he should follow it. Thinking again, he had no other way to solve this problem. Hence, Dock 1 would house these aliens for a while.

"Comm, prepare a message to them. Your choice of format. Show them the docking process and how to move to Dock 1. Put an extra warning in it. Something like they shoot us, they dead, they stray from course, they dead. I leave the exact manner to you. How long do you need?"

The communication officer, clearly stressed from such an order, mumbling a bit before giving a straight answer: Thirty minutes. Somehow, he had already made some similar messages back when he was still in Naval Academy. At least it was a goods news to Xijang and Minhu. The process, so far, was pretty smooth. No shooting, no killing... And he sincerely hoped it would never happen. Human had already seen enough death and destruction.

The officer in the communication booth swept his sweat on the forehead. Clearly the stress on him was not an easy one. It was fitting, really, he was one of the more vocal voice on the station in being preparing for a war against alien invaders. Now, he was doing everything in his capabilities to keep the war from even igniting. One wrong step and Murphy would make things even worse. For a while, there was nothing going on in the bridge, everyone was either staring at the screen which was showing the alien vessel, or their consoles which were showing the reports on the very same vessel, or simply biting their lips in anxiety. It was a blessing for them that no antique clock was hang inside - the constant rhythm of the machinery would drive them nut in that stressful situation quickly.

And then, the sample message was put on display. It was put on as required by Captain Lee, mostly to check that the message could be understood by the aliens. The screen, initially, had nothing but pitch black colour. It showed a schematic drawing of the strange alien ship in yellow on one side, the Outpost in light blue on the other on the other. A smaller craft, or shuttle, was spawned from the alien ships in the same time as two dashed yellow curves appeared, connecting the smaller craft and the top of the station, where Dock 1 was. Once the craft started moving along the curves, a green check appeared on the corner of the screen. The check itself maintained until the craft had finally finished docking with the Outpost. The screen was then looped back to the beginning, but this time, a big red cross with buzzing sound.

A new scene appeared on the screen, this time, the craft had been enlarged and showing a few figures in yellow. When one figure was show appearing from inside the craft with five slightly smaller figures with weapon, a green check was shown. However, when all figures were shown carrying weapons, a red cross with buzzing sound appeared again, the same situation was applied when there were more than six figures - carrying arms or not. Clearly, there must be a limit for the diplomatic envoy

The whole message took less than five minutes to play, simple to understand and watch, yet it was still informative enough to understand. Xijang nodded, appreciating the effort of his men. He just hoped that this message carried the same meaning in the alien mind.

* * *

 **Note: I use the "SciFi HSS - Human Space Station G8" by CGPitbull 3D on CGTrader website. He also has many well-done models for spaceships, tanks, strike crafts... as well. I suggest you to drop by and "watch" them**


	3. Chapter 2

**Eu sou um fa** : Thank you for your support. I hope the re-write version can satisfy your hope of a good fanfic

 **gearblade** : Thank you for your support.

 **Ghostboy95** : Thanks. I really put much effort to refine my old chapters (if not out-right re-writing all of them). Glad that it works

 **CReaper210** : You are correct; I'm not a native English speaker. Granted, my long exposure to English (10 years, approaching... 15, I think) should make me comparable to a native speaker, my tendency of being careless really messes up my effort. I will try my best to minimize the number of my mistakes from now on. Thanks for the problem you point out, I mean 2049 in the original script. I would have it fixed then.

 **General-joseph-dickson** : Thanks for your support

* * *

 _Si vis pacem, para bellum  
_ [If you want peace, prepare for war]  
\- Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus, Roman writer (late 4th century) in _De re militari_ [Concerning Military Matters]. Motto of the Central Intelligence Office (Terran Federation)

* * *

 **Location:  
** Outpost Hotel-Omega 29  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental

 **Time:  
** 18:48 – Terran Standard Time  
22 December 2200

The message asking for a face-to-face meeting onboard the station had been sent and accepted. While it was just a simple version with basic sounds and images, it was quickly understood by the Quarians and an acceptance message was sent as reply. Luckily for both side, a simple translation matrix was established quickly after that, allowing both sides to confirm their intentions. Other than inviting the representatives on board, both onsite ranking officers expressed their will to notify the higher up, Arcturus Station for Captain Lee, and the Migrant Fleet for Captain Rozu. Meanwhile, their second-in-commands discussed the procedures of docking and welcoming. Those were all small details, but none dared to gloss past them for many things were at stake.

All of them worked out flawlessly, or as perfect as it could be when the whole crew was trying to put on the brave faces. To be fair, when an alien artifact suddenly got activated and released an alien ship, even the bravest would be freak out. Considering the… questionable sanity of the Terran Navy, it came as no surprise to Captain Lee that some of his men were reviewing their Testaments. On the other hand, Serina reported on a sudden increase in terms of search on porn. The ones in which either or both the actors and actresses playing as aliens… Commander Cho was seen walking out of the room pumping a shotgun after that. Lee simply (and wisely) refrained from asking her what she would do – as long as there was no one getting killed, it was fine to him.

After a long and tedious process of preparation and rehearsal, the Outpost was ready to welcome the aliens, the first ones that human had ever met. Granted, they found the remains of the Protheans, but those uber-aliens were already dead, which meant little for an Average Joe on the street. At least their artifacts allowed humans to refine their original Faster-Than-Light drive and jump start their Artificial Intelligence program. Both of which gave mankind a sharp edge in exploration and expanding in this Galaxy.

Standing behind the reinforced window, Captain Lee Xijang watched the small alien craft docking on with the Outpost. It was… slightly uncomfortable to be hovering in the air. While humanity possessed the power to manifest artificial intelligence, the material required was "The Grey Goo", or "Element Alpha" if one wanted to be technically correct. That material was too exotic, too rare to be used in mass. Hence, other than heavy capital ships and important space stations, human had to resort to a more "basic" type of artificial gravity: the rotational type. Basically, it could be understood as humans standing on the inner surface of a rotating cylinder, the rotational speed of which would decide the local gravitational acceleration of the area. And for all rotating system, its center would be (relatively) stationery – and that was the location of Dock 1, where the aliens were about to land.

The system, while not precisely "fancy", worked well. It was boring, but it was also practical and affordable. For all intents and purposes, it would be the Second Law of Humanity. The First Law would be Beware of Murphy, for He punished the ones with insufficient preparation. Or something liked that.

Xijang unconsciously glanced downward to the area of the Dock being clouded in shadow. Two squads worth of Marines were lying there, just in case the aliens had other ideas than just talk. And in case they failed, or the Quarians had an infiltration specialist on board, the hallways had been rigged with sensors for all known spectrum as well as being staffed with vigilant guards. It was not like he was being hostile to the newcomers, he was simply being prepared. There was many things at stake, and High Command was watching the events unfolding as it progressed.

No pressure. Really.

Standing next to Captain Lee, Corporal Yuri Silva of the 260th Marine Brigade was using his pair of magnetic boots to secure himself on the ground. The black hardsuit variant of the ceremony dress made him intimidating, and the sight was further enhanced with the rest his men standing behind with their black berets on while showing the hard faces. With the number standing at two standard squads, their job was to make sure the aliens would not cause any trouble and to create a sense of security, for both the crews and the aliens. In case of things went haywire, their comrades, who were hiding in the hangar, would be the problem solver.

The welcome committee was also joined with Doctor Sonchat Banerjia, representing the "scientific" group. With a degree in Electronics, it could be said that he had the highest academic competency on the whole Outpost. He was asked to join in, just in case the aliens were also fans of scientific discussion, and to provide another point of view on the aliens themselves. However, per Lee's insistence, Professor left his AI, Shina, in the office, just in case these aliens did not like artificial intelligence.

The next member was Governor Xin Minli, joining via a live video feed, representing the "official" side. His presence would somewhat strengthened the position of the Terran, especially concerning the Shanxi colony in this system. Though to be fair, he was still probably sitting in his office on Shanxi, finishing some of his paperwork or supervising the reception to welcome the Quarians. He would join in once the part official discussion came into play only.

With responsibilities already been discussed and authorized, Xijang, as the resident ranking military officer, would be the leader of the party, directly responsible in welcoming the guests. Meanwhile, his second-in-command, Commander Cho, would remain in the bridge, responsible for the back-up plans should anything happen. She would also co-ordinate the whole Outpost together, keeping it function properly even if there were total strangers on board.

The small craft was slowly approaching the Outpost, escorted by a pair of Starfurries, dedicated space-born fighters of the Terran Federation. Despite their strange appearance, a cross-section of X, and their bulky shape, the Starfurries were very maneuverable strike crafts, becoming highly powerful instruments of war in the hands of Terran. The Quarians must be intrigued with their escorts, if the constant radio traffic between the shuttle and their "mother ship" was a reliable proof. To be fair, Xijang would do the same if he was in their shoes.

Paging the comm unit, he rang his second-in-command:

"Mina, what do you make of their shuttle and their ship?"

"Sir, our scan finds a considerable amount of Element Alpha on their mothership. Both the size of the ship and the amount of Element Alpha are aligned with Prothean design of a frigate. The shuttle has a much smaller amount, but it still has enough to throw off our gravitational sensor."

"Is there anything else worth of notice?"

"There is nothing much, sir. Other than the part that the shuttle and the frigate seem to follow vastly different schools of design, I cannot think of anything else."

"How different?"

"Well, for starter, the mother ship is quite blocky, but it still has a pair of wings, if we can call them such, at the end, giving the whole structure a small feeling of aerodynamics. However, the shuttle is full of curves, very… artisitic, and to be fair, it does not look like something you can find on a war ship. Serina and I are trying to find all possible answers for the question why."

"Understood. Is there any new development?"

"None, sir. The Quarians are still holding in their place, minor deviations, all of them within acceptable parameters."

"Thanks, keep me on the update tab."

If Xijang could be honest, he was scared, everything he had done in the last few hours was simply to keep himself busy, lest he had free time to sit down and be afraid. But there was little could be done, and he knew better that as a commander, his job was to delegate, not to do the job himself. Therefore, he had to find other tasks to kill time, and to be fair, listing out what-can-go-wrong scenarios did little to calm down his nerve, though it made his bladder become free and empty a few times.

Outside, the Terran escorts soon broke away when their charge was getting close to the Outpost. The giant metal door was opening wide, welcoming the guests to the prosperity and friendship of Terran Federation. The shuttle, as Captain Lee noticed it, seemed to be a bit cliché. It was quite the same as the ones fantasized by humans in the classic sci-fi movies. It looked quite blocky, with small thrusters at the bottom and bigger ones in the back. The shuttle was also equipped with a few retractable landing gears like the ones on helicopters.

Though the shuttle was also… odd, somehow, it looked… old. There were scratches and patches scattered on the hull, a few mis-matched paints here and there. Something strange was nagging on Xijang's mind. It was as if he had already known the answer, it was on the tip of his tongue, but he failed to spell it out properly. Too bad, he had little time to consider it, the engineers inside the hangar had already done securing the shuttle firmly on the ground and given the welcoming party an all-clear signal.

Captain Lee grimaced… It was either do or do not, there was no such thing called try. He had to shove that thought to a side and focus on the mission. Signaling the marine to open the door leading to the hangar, he activated his magnetic boots and quickly put on his "brave face". It had been a long time since he last used it. May be five or six years since his graduation? Probably, it had been a long time.

Walking briskly to the shuttle, he was followed by the group of ceremonial guards. The shuttle door quickly opened when he arrived, revealing a black suit with the helmet on, which looked like a small bucket somehow. The suit itself was also strange, with "decorations" made from materials with different materials. Fabric was the first coming to Xijang's mind. At least the suit was not a combat-variant, suggesting the figure here was the leader of the delegation. It did not take much time for him to realize that the alien he was watching was also the Captain of the Quarian ship, Zare Rozu vas Iktomi. This would be… interesting, to say the least.

Standing at attention, he saluted the alien with perfect features, an action that was quickly followed and copied by his men. The sound of the boots slamming together startled the aliens group. The alien captain slightly jerked back, just slightly, but it was still picked up by Captain Lee. His men were not so subtle in their reactions. There was one looked like a deer got caught in the spotlight. He must be frozen in place for a few seconds – too long for situation like this. That may be intriguing, the aliens were either impressed with the discipline of the Terran, or worse, they were not being used to be respected like this by another armed forces…

"Welcome to the Terran Federation, Captain Zare Rozu. My name is Lee Xijang, and on behalf of the People of the Terran Federation, I humbly bid you a good time on board our Outpost. If you have any trouble, please feel free to us, we shall try our best to accommodate your desires."

The greetings, being said in the mother tongue of Captain Lee, which was Mandarin, was quickly translated in real time into the Quarian language and broadcasted via the external speaker. Regarding his marines, each of them had an earphone and their own personal translation machine, allowing them to understand the conversation with little amount of troubles.

"Well met, Lee'Xijang… I sincerely hope we can have a good time together…"

Even though the alien was speaking in his tongue, the translating matrix was

However, it did not require an expert to see that the Quarians were struggling to stay straight. Hell, the entire delegation team had to grab on the handle of the ramp and to lock feet with it to prevent them on flying upwards. Blinking a few times, Xijang quickly realized the problem and signaled the Doctor, who had been stuck in his room for the last few hours, working frantically to prepare the equipments for the aliens.

"May I present you Doctor Sonchat Banerjia. He is the ranking academic officials here, and he has a solution to assist you in moving comfortably on this Outpost."

The Indian-born Doctor nodded towards the Captain while stepping up. In his hands were a few pairs of modified magnetic boots, being tailor-made to assist the Quarians and taking into account their fragile protective suits. While the job sounds simple, any engineers worth his (or her) salt would know that the small details took most of the time, turning a fairly-easy task into a hard and time-consuming one. Luckily, the Doctor was experienced in his own right, not to mention the support from the brilliant on-board engineers.

"Thank you, Captain. These, ladies and gentlemen, are the modified magnetic boots… or rather, the sole part, the bottom section of a boots, if you will. I hope these items can help you."

"Thank you… Doctor Sonchat'Banerjia. On behalf of the Iktomi's crew, thank you for your help. Captain Lee'Xijang, do you mind if we… put them on right here?"

"It is no problem Captain Zare Rozu, please make yourself at home."

"Thank you for your understanding, Captain."

The Quarian delegation quickly crouched down and installed the magnetic sole under their boots. A few Velcro straps were attached on them, essentially replacing the cover above one's feet. Simple in design, but it was also highly practical and looked good for something went from design to production in just a few hours. Human's principality again. The Quarians were experience the sweet end of that idea, it only took them a few seconds before knowing on how to put them on, and just a blink of an eye later, they had been standing up straight without any help whatsoever.

"Thank you again for your help, Captain. These… soles were helpful to say the least."

Both sides quickly introduced the members of the delegation to each other. The Quarians had three of their officers visiting the Terran, with an escort group of six marines. All of them were wearing the same kind of outfit, a black protective suit with a few simple hooks and clamps, or some simple decorations. Each Quarian also had a "bucket" helmet on their head, ranging from pale purple to dark orange colour. According to the Captain, it was due to the practically non-existence of the Quarian immune system.

Pleasantries were exchanged, communication units were hand out to each and every Quarian in order to maintain a clear line of interaction. Those units were also integrated with translation matrix, allowing them to interact with the other crewmembers should the need arises. In addition, with Serina (and Shia) monitoring the matrix, the more it was used, the more correct future translation would be. It was what Xijang could call an arrow hitting two birds.

The entourage went from top to bottom of the Outpost. Of course, they did leave the rotational axis area and reached the rim end of the station. At least, they had little need for the magnetic boots there, the rotational acceleration had been made equal to the one on their homeworld. Strangely enough, the gravitational acceleration on Quarian ships was roughly 9.5m/s2, not much of a difference from Earth-borne 9.81m/s2, though it was really strange to not find any entry on the home world of the Quarian.

Actually, it was not that strange, there was also virtually no information about the human's home world in the First Contact Package after all. Sure, they showed the Quarians a close-up of lives on Earth, a few beautiful natural sites and a brief view of the Earth from outer space. However, there was no intelligence to act on if one wanted to find her location. Humans were slightly paranoid and careful in this matter. It was Murphy's class again: what if the alien only knew how to talk from a position of strength? What if they would launch an invasion against Earth itself?

Considering that the brasses back home even had a notebook on "How to deal with Rubber Duck uprising" (Long story, no one even dared to ask them about that), it did not even surprise him that they had a "How to send a Proper First Contact Package". At least they did not have a "How to woe an Blue Space Chick", assuming no bored marine thought about it. At least the ones on the Outpost would be too busy with watching over the Quarians delegation. With that job being a 24/7, they would have little time to spend on crazy and insane things to kill the time.

* * *

 **Location:  
** Outpost Hotel-Omega 29  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental

 **Time:  
** 19:32 – Terran Standard Time  
22 December 2200

To say Captain Zare'Rozu was impressed with the Terran would be an understatement. Sure, they had practically no Element Zero on board, though it was not because they had lower tech level. It was simply due to their bad luck - there was simply not enough mine in their border to satisfy their need. For some races like the Asari or the Elcor, they would slow down their drive towards space significantly, to the point that the program would be described as stopped. Meanwhile, the Turian or the Salari would be hard-pressed, but they would still venture outward, but mostly to find new mines.

The humans, though, they knew that they did not have enough eezo to equip all ships and stations, so they did the most sensible work in their mind: they remove the eezo cores from all stations. Sure, it would mean that they would have no artificial gravity, leading to the crew's discomfort. However, that problem was solved by building a rotating station. Simple, but that was its elegance. He knew for sure that not many Quarian, tech-savvy as they were, were capable of delivering that kind of solution. Very impressive.

The design of the station was highly militaristic in nature. It was not built as a singular block, but rather a series of modules being linked together. And if the original images and his own eyes were not deceiving him, all those modules were made with the intention to be replaced quickly if required. That would suggest a high level of industrial power on their terms, not many races had that kind of ability, including the Turians. The idea frightened Zare, if they could mass produce stations' modules, they could also mass produce ships and tanks on the same principle. A sleeping giant, that should be their status. He was praying he was wrong about this, the last thing his people wanted was another Turian species next door.

In addition, he had an inkling feeling that these humans were not putting faith on his words. They had been evading many questions on their capabilities. Sure, they were all friendly and warm, but they threw a quite a fist when his engineer asked to visit the Power Generator. Their escorts must intervene to keep them from being assaulted by the human engineers. At least Lee'Xijang vas... Hmm, he had never told Zare the name of his station, or outpost... Anyway, the human Captain had promised to see the said engineers to be disciplined properly. Though, he still grumbled about engineers' sacred ground and its restriction to other people - a sentiment that Zare could share as a fellow Captain.

From their reactions, Zare knew, no, he believed that this would be their First Contact Scenario. But he had no idea why they were being... too cautious, many hallways were evacuated before their arrivals, some bars were even manned by soldiers, not civilian contractors. Keelah, thinking about it, he was not so sure if the humans were protecting him against any threat from their own, or preparing to eliminate him should he come... troublesome. On the bright side, they did not shoot first, ask later like the Turians, or soothing him to sleep like the Asari, or to scan him over and over again like the Salarian.

That, and the lounge they were lending him to rest was really nice. Comfortable couch, good music, nice temperature and soothing atmosphere. He knew that it was the Officer's Mess (as shown by his translating program in his omni-tool), but he did not even believe that they would give him and his group the second-best room on board just to laze around. Well, it was not like he was mindful, look like he would enjoy their hospitality then. Besides, even though the humans were levo-based beings, their alcohols could be consumed by the Quarians safely, and they tasted really good.

The door opened, revealing the human Captain and the Doctor. That appearance snapped a salute from the escorts station in the room, all of who had been staying silent for the time he was resting here. Good discipline... almost too good. Dismissing the men in black, Lee'Xijang greeted his group, his tone was still guarded and professional, but it was also no less friendly:

"How are you feeling, Captain?"

"I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"Again, I'm terribly sorry that we do not have any food for your dinner."

"Do not worry. Each of us has our own ration packs, sure, they are bland, but we are used to it. We have already have ours meal, if that is what you want to know."

"Thank you for telling us... Now, should we move on to the next part? My superiors want to know a bit more about your people, and I assume it is the same for yours?"

"You could say so..."

Actually, the Admiral Board was scarred, simply because he made First Contact on a deniable operation. They were pretty divided on the matter, some wanted him to botch and run, some wanted him to investigate the capabilities of the humans, and some wanted to establish relationship with the humans. In the end, Admiral Gerrel and Admiral Herato proposed the idea of establish dialogues with the "Terran Federation". Worst case scenario, they just had another aggressor, which hardly matter for the Migrant Fleet was very close to their death.

Lee'Xijang led the entourage to an office, a conference room of sort. It was pretty simple at first glance and seemingly had more focus on its functionality than its appearance. Zare was sure that the door had been reinforced with strong and durable material, even heavy-grade weapon of the Turians would take a bit of time to tear it open. The interior of the room was no less functional. The wall was made of a smooth colour of grey metallic, a few plants and pictures in the corners helped to slightly ease down the intimidating atmosphere. On the other end of the room was a large screen, almost like an old screen from the old warships of the Fleet. A long and heavy-looking table was aligned right under it.

Laid on top of it were a few data-pads, the analogue of a human's omni-tool. While they were not as tech-fancy as the universal omni-tool, they were still capable in their own rights. Zare had seem various crew members accomplishing various tasks with them, ranging from making phone calls, checking message to pairing with a terminal to extract the data. They were, for all intents and purposes, the "physical manifestation" of the omni-tool. It was another proof to say that the humans were not to be looked down under any circumstances.

The chairs were also very comfortable, not as much as the couch in the mess, but they were wonderful enough for a working place like this. Zare was not even sure if his Captain chair on Iktomi was this good. Glancing to the sides, he quickly found out that his entourage was thinking the same. His Chief Engineer even looked blissful, and for a cynical Quarian who survive on nutrient paste and alcohol, that was real statement.

The human captain wasted no time before opening up:

"Captain Rozu, the possession of these four data-pads is now yours and your crew. The interface has been switched to Khelish for your comfort. This machine is universal within our border, you can use them to… well, do pretty much everything, ranging from personal to social, working to relaxing. Considering them as our friendly courtesy."

"Thank you. I'd make sure that my crews are informed about this. Though, I must say that I am… deeply impressed with your programming prowess. We just met a few Standard Galactic Hours ago, and you have already finished the translation program."

"Well… we have experiences. Do you even know that we have more than 6000 languages these days?"

"WHAT? SIX THOUSAND?"

Zare was not sure who had scream, himself or the Second Gunnery Officer. Even then, the idea was too absurd. Six thousands? Counting all dialects and variants, the entire language number count within the Council barely reaches four hundred, and that was even after centuries of colonization. Keelah… Those humans were really… not the normal type of aliens that Zare knew of.

"Well, most of them are just spoken by minor groups… And only four hundred of them are spoken by virtually the entire population of the Terran Federation."

"So… how many people do you have?"

"I believe… somewhere about seventy-five to seventy-nine billion."

"Billion? That is impressive. Though to be fair, combined with the high number of languages, I would say that your culture is fairly diverse."

"More like very. I can trace my origin to at least three culture origins, and I have been growing up with two more."

"I… well… I have no idea what to say about that. Our culture is not that diverse, being united together for a few hundred years has that side-effect."

The screen on the wall suddenly came to life, showing another human. Well, two more humans to be precise. An elder one, male, was sitting behind his desk, suggesting his position as someone important. At least Zare thought he was elder than the Captain on board. The new man had some wrinkles around his eyes, and his hair was not as black or as smooth as Lee'Xijang. In addition, he was not wearing any military-looking uniform, so he may be a local governor or some sort like that. Behind him stood a much younger female, who looked very similar to an Asari, minus the light pink skin tone.

Lee'Xijang turned to the side, watching the screen coming to life. Upon realizing the new faces, he took a small nod toward them, probably as a silent greeting. It would mean that they were familiar to each other.

"Captain Zare'Rozu, may I present Governor Xin Minli, behind him is Secretary Zhao Mi, the Governor's assistant. He is currently on Shanxi, the local colony in this system."

"Thank you Captain Lee. Greeting Captain Zare'Rozu, on behalf of the Shanxi's people, and on the Hegemony of Oriental, members of the Terran Federation, I welcome you to our humble sovereign. May peace and prosperity be with you."

"Thank you Governor."

On the screen, the female assistant bent down, whispering something into the years of the governor, which made him nod in return, agreeing on some matter. Meanwhile, Captain Lee spoke up, clarified the purpose for the appearance of the Governor:

"Governor Xin is joining in our conversation with the hope to… establish relationship between Human and Quarian. Is that alright with you?"

"I… I am not authorized to decide on that matter. I am sorry for that."

"Don't worry, we know, we just want to… lay down the basic for now, if you do not mind."

"That is alright with me."

The conversation began in earnest. Information was traded from both sides. Captain Lee seemed to be intrigued with the history of the Quarian people, especially with the unity of his people. Zare and his crew were surprised by his interest, which was answered with a piece of Terran history. As it turned out, the human had only been united for over a century, even though they possessed basic space flight for over two hundred years already. However, the humans were a bit dodgy on how they achieve unity. Zare just hoped they did not earn that via total bloodshed.

The Governor, meanwhile, was interested in their space flight capability. The one answered that was the best expert on hand, who was also the most insane being in the room: his Chief Engineer. However, Zare was not so sure if he was the craziest in the conversation. It looked like the Governor himself was once a pilot of a spaceship, and he enjoyed talking with someone who knew his stuff. Though his secretary did not seem happy about it, it looked like she was the sane and responsible one of the conversation.

Somehow, despite her (subtle and voiceless) insistence of the female for the talk to stay on track, the males were more interested in being bros to each other. Zare did not mind it at all, making good friends was a hobby of the men, especially when both sides were trying to learn the other's language and failed to have the correct accent. The Khelish sounded horribly wrong when spoken by the Humans, though the "English", "German" or "Mandarin" sounded barely better under the crew of the Iktomi. Too bad then, they would have to stick with the emotionless synthesis voice of the translation program a little while longer.

Not

At least the mood was good until the topic slowly drifted to the social issues. Knowing that there were over two million colonists on Shanxi alone really made his crew looked thoughtful, and it was not even one of their main colonies. Granted, they only had eight "colonies", the ones found on a planet, but from the way they phrased that, it seemed like the human even had a "space colony" in their border.

It sounded a bit strange, but the most (in)famous one in the realm of Citadel Council would be Omega. Not the best colony or having a stellar record track, but still technically a space colony.

And then, his Second Gunnery Officer just bitterly said:

"We only have seventeen million in our Fleet, and probably twenty million or so in total."

That answer put a somber mood over the entire group of Quarian, and a puzzled as well as guarded expression on the human. They seemed to be… alerted for some unknown reasons. They were right to be, his people had lost everything because of their own folly, their own mistake, and because of the ignorance and discard of the _united galactic community._ A bitter line of thought entered Zare's mind.

Lee'Xijang hesitantly spoke up:

"Captain, surely you are joking? The said number has been mentioned in the Codex you sent us, we thought it was a mistake. It looks like you have been space faring for a much longer time than us, you should have a larger pool of population."

"We could, and should… but we can't. Our fleet has been pushed to the extreme to accommodate seventeen million already. We cannot raise our population without sacrificing anything."

If the humans were not tense and alerted before, they were getting those now. The number they had was not a falsehood, it was a reality. A dark and stark reality that Zare and his crew were trying to find a solution for.

"Speaking of that, you are referring to your origin as the Fleet, or the Migrant Fleet in the official term. Would you mind explaining it to me?"

The Governor hesitantly spoke, and for some reason, Zare thought the old man was scared. He was good in looking stiff and proper, but experience told him that the elder human was afraid of something. The secretary behind him looked pensive too, hungering for the answer. Sitting in front of him, Captain Lee was also focus on the coming tales. It was a bitter tale, and Zare was not sure if he should reveal it. After all, it could be rated as "matter of grave concern"

Glancing to the side and to the back, he received the nods of his crew and his own security detachment. They were all sharing the same opinion. Grace concern to the Quarian or not, it was the reason they had to leave their homeland nearly three centuries ago. The threat remained active and very much a real danger to every organic sentient being. In addition, it was also a mistake of the Quarian, one made them paid dearly in blood. It would be their duty to inform the Terran about this threat. The least the human could do was to be careful in their approach to technology.

Turning on the omni-tool, he did not even have to calm down the human. Intriguing, it would suggest they had already known about the technology, even if they did not apply on mass-scale in this Outpost. Fairly well, he would not have to calm down the startled humans then. Fumbling around on his tool, he quickly pulled up the image of a Geth, showing it to the humans. They looked very puzzle, alternating their eyes between the image and him, as if asking a silent question. And Zare had already made up his mind to give them the answer:

"That is the reason why we have to live on spaceship. That is the reason why we have to leave our home world behind. This is the reason why we Quarians are only numbering at less than twenty million today."

"And that reason is…"

"The Geth. Artificial Intelligence, a hubris of my own people... Governor, Captain, we originally made them to be a labour force, to be our soldiers. We had no intention to give them sapience, they just… had it by themselves. And once they became self-aware, three hundred years ago, they rose up, and killed virtually every Quarian. We called it the Geth Rebellion. That was the darkest moment in our history, gentlemen. I just have one thing to say on this matter, do not make any Artificial Intelligence, do not trust them, for they will kill you all eventually."

The room just turned completely silent, the humans were too stunned to answer, and his crew was in their somber mood. The atmosphere was getting heavier and heavier by the second, no one dared to speak for a few seconds. Then, a few things happened at once. The Governor was taking a glass of wine from his secretary while Captain Lee was drowning his water bottle, the Doctor just leaned back, staring at the ceiling and blurting out loud:

"Well, fuck."

"My sentiment Doctor."


	4. Chapter 3

**Watcher 123** : Thank you for your comment. It is my intent to have the Humans and Quarians understanding each other, they know the hardship the have to face, and they realize that the Galaxy (read: the Citadel Council) is not actually... keen on being a good friend of theirs. Of course, coming from different background, they have different attitude and solution to a same problem, which will lead to... complications

 **Chinerpeton** : To be fair, it makes sense if you are a Quarian. From the Entry of Quarians on the Mass Effect Wiki, it is said that most Quarians are killed in the Geth Rebellion. If Rannoch is similar to Earth, I would say that there are 7~8 billion (at least) before the Rebellion, but now there is only 17 million, barely a fraction of their population. Saying they are paranoid about AI would be an... understatement.

 **general-jospeh-dickson** : Everyone has their own prejudges. It is a matter if they let those interfering with the professional and social work.

Guest: For Tali - Shepard Romance, you are too early, I would say ~50 chapters (at least) and about 20 years in-story. We are at the opening of First Contact War period (or in the opening chapter of Relay 314 Incident, or right before Human-Turian War). If there is any Shepard around, that would be his parents kicking arse or watching the news. Rael'Zorah (Tali's father) may appear in my story as a low-ranking officer of the Quarian Migrant Fleet (or on the Pilgrimage, for that matter)

 **Olav152** : Thank you for your support, I would try my best to impress you with my future chapters.

 **CReaper210** : Thank you for your support, I would try my best to improve the quality of my writing to further impress you then

* * *

When in doubt, tell the truth. It will confound your enemies and astound your friends.  
\- Mark Twain (1835 – 1910), real name: Samuel Langhorne Clemens [former] US writer, humorist, entrepreneur, publisher, and lecturer.

* * *

 **Location:**  
Outpost Hotel-Omega 129  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Orientals

 **Time:**  
15:37 – Terran Standard time  
31 December 2200

Captain Lee Xijang was musing his own glass of heavy alcohol in his office, which was technically against regulation. Speaking from a traditional and cultural view point, what he was doing was a major taboo, disregarding the strict military code of conduct. However, considering the magnitude of the (political and potentially military) "breakdown" (or shit storm) in the last week, he deserved some nice privileges as long as they did not hinder him from completing his mission. During the last ten days, the job's requirement was just "stop a Human - Quarian War", or a "First Contact War" in (future) history book. It was unknown if human could survive the war, let alone winning it.

Xijang just grumbled in his throat then drowned the whole class in a single shot. The burning sensation of the drink kept him staying on the awake and alert side of the emotion spectrum, which had been proven to be quite… crucially while dealing with the Quarians. The only reason he had not have them thrown out of airlock was that killing them may trigger the First Contact War, of which he and his crew would be the first casualties. Thinking about the line on his tombstone "Death because of hot-head and stupidity" was more than enough to keep himself from going renegade.

However, it did not mean that he was happy with the situation, no, far from it. Those aliens simply refused the idea of Artificial Intelligence being able to co-exist peacefully with organic beings. Their only "proof" was the Geth Rebellion (as they called it) centuries ago, most of which had already became "myth" or "legend" already. None of the Quarian had actual record of that period of history, or remembered it in depth. They were just told by their parents and their parents' parents about the Geth's atrocities and destruction, forming a deep hatred for AI since a very young age.

Well, that would be humanity if they let the fear taking control of their own brilliant mind. There had been… countless media works exploiting the angles of AI Rebellion, ranging from a terrible migraine to outright Apocalypse in the severity. In the same time, AIs were also considered as trusted companions or even heroes and saviors was not a small number either. Considering that a consideration portion of such work in the current time was made by the AIs themselves, the situation would be funny if it was not so surreal. Of course, the Quarians were not informed about that, they had been freaked out enough by the sheer presence of AI already.

At least they were not shooting or blowing his Outpost up, for which he was grateful for, even if it came close to a hot stand-off soon enough. The delegation was not someone incompetent, they had their own insurance program in place. As soon as the news about the AI was transmitted to their ship, the Quarian "frigate" quickly disconnected, aligned itself and prepared for an attack. Only the radar locking of multiple missile pods and the appearance of a few X-wing Squadrons made them hesitate to launch an attack.

Well, that, and their Captain was on the station, assumingly under the barrels of guns. It took a lot of persuasion to diffuse the powder keg, carrot-and-big-gun style, but by the end of the day, no one died. Both sides returned to their respective housing with their ego wounded and their mind spooked. Considering that it was a First Contact situation, it was the best Xijang could ask for.

The second-best was the reinforcement sent by High Command. Faster-than-light communication, dubbed QEC by the majority of humanity even if they had no idea what it stood for, informed him that a full fleet detachment would be sent to bolster the strength of the system, just in case. And it was not just "any fleet", it was the Fifth Fleet, considered as the most mobile and the heaviest punch of the Federation. While having the smallest number of carriers (just two of them, and Light Carrier classification in addition), they boasted a respectable number of strike crafts thanks to implementing dedicated hangar bays on the capital ships. As history had already proven it, the ones with better air superiority would win the battle.

However, the reinforcement would take a few days more to arrive in the system, or rather, at the edge of the system and laid in ambush. Admiral Shivam Sodhi had already been informed about the deteriorating situation, sending a full mighty force into the system would do little to… calm down their nerve. It would be more… beneficial for the Quarian to calm down with the help (or the insistence) from the ones they knew.

In the meantime, Captain Lee Xijang had no other option than to try and being friendly and respectful with the Quarians. At least those aliens respect (grudgingly) his honesty. It would save the mankind the potential fall down later if he had not been frank with Captain Zare Rozu on the account of the AI. After one or two days discussing with his crew, albeit when his ship was under careful watch from the Terran Navy ships (four Destroyers and their strike crafts squadrons), the Quarians decided to give the humans the benefits of doubts. At least the AIs had not try to kill them yet – the important words were "try" and "yet".

After that decision, the relationship between two sides improved slightly, it was still a guarded one, but not hostile or paranoid-induced like on the first day. Granted, the humans were (probably) better at hiding their fear and uncertainty, and their methods of protecting themselves could be considered as… a bit on the extreme side. Xijang just hoped that he would not have to use them – rather having and not needing, than needing and not having. It was possible that the Quarians knew about that, or they had certain hunch feeling about it. He knew they knew, and they knew he knew they knew. Such was a game of politics, it was dirty, but if it was necessary for the survival of mankind, then let it be.

On the brighter side, the Chief Engineer on their ship was slowly and gradually becoming the drinking buddy with the engineer civilian specialists and his own military engineers on board. It seemed like the Quarian one had interest in the Mech-suit built by humans due to the absence of its analogue in the Citadel space. It appeared that most of the known alien species had been copying the result of the Prothean (a vast, star-spanning empire millenniums ago) without inventing their own tech-tree.

It was a… boring work in overall, but it was an idea that worked well enough for them, practically giving them the right to this universe. Hence, seeing a "strange" technology piece like the FAP would be an interesting idea, not to mention that it was a real engineering piece of art. In addition, as much as Xijang was informed, there was no mention of any "Mech-like" unit in the Prothean Archive on Mars, making the suit a purely human-made development. And even if the ancient aliens did have any, the FAPs and their family of Mech would still be a human artwork.

Thinking about it gave Xijang a strange sense of pride. The humans had always been thinking that they were just ants in the Galaxy. No matter how strong their ships were, how many ships and men they had, they were still small and weak comparing to other alien races. Yet, their First Contact showed that in certain scenarios, they could stand toe-to-toe with long-established alien powers in the Galaxy, or at least, one of them. The Quarians were still lip-sealed about the Citadel races and their associates.

Captain Lee Xijang just sighed. May be those Quarians were afraid of the humans, not just because the presence of AI, but also because of the use of "Element Alpha", or rather the lack of it. Difference in technology, especially in the First Contact scenario, was a valid reason for paranoia. That would be a good reason for withholding information, Xijang was not putting blame on his counter-part though, he would do the same in the other's shoe.

The datapad, which was an universal tool just like the smartphones of the early 21st century, suddenly rang up, notifying a caller. Xijang glanced at the screen and got surprised when he saw the ID of the other side. It was no one other than Captain Zare Rozu. Why he would call was anyone's guess, but Xijang hoped it was good news. He accepted the call. The synthesized voice of the Quarian (after the translation) quickly sprang up from the speaker:

"Greeting, Captain Lee'Xijang."

"Greeting, Captain."

"If you don't mind, I would like to… notify you a new development on our end."

A sinking feeling slowly formed in his stomach, something had gone terribly wrong. A series of what-if scenarios flashed through his mind, none of them looked promising or even safe for mankind. It was as if the Quarian Captain was bidding farewell and saying goodbye to him before the break of war.

"Yes, what may it be?"

Trying to keep his nerve, Lee Xijang asked in a calm manner, as much mental strength as he could gather. Whether the other side could spot it or not was another question that he did not really want to know the answer.

"My superior officer is coming and he would like to… discuss the terms with your people on the account of opening a relationship."

The Quarian may not even know that he had just lifted a major weight out of the shoulder of the human counterpart. Xijang just breathed out in relief silence, praying thanks to whatever deities he knew in his mind. It looked like war would be averted for another day.

"Would you mind telling me when he arrives then? My commander would be here in a few days, three or four to be precise, and I think it is better for them to schedule a meeting."

"According to your time system, that would be about… three days and twenty hours. Give or take three though."

"Understood, thank you for your help… Do you have any problem?"

"Other than you using AIs?"

"Well… yes, other than that."

"Not much, though my Chief Engineer is showing interest in your Mech-suits, asking for a test-run, and some of his men would love to see your strike crafts, with your permission and… moderation, of course."

"Understood. I will see what I can do about that. The Mechs are still being used to upgrade our Outpost, so I have to check with the schedule of my men. On the matter of the strike crafts… I'm afraid that the most I could do is letting you guys seeing them docked, no electronic surveillance or recording program is allowed, I'm afraid."

"Those terms are acceptable for me. Security reasons, I suppose?"

"Correct."

"Thank you for your help then. Is there any problem on your end regarding us then?"

A flash of an idea ran through Xijang's mind. It was a bit… bizarre. Well, not as bizarre and dangerous as telling an AI-hating alien species that he had a few AIs on board, but it was still on the abnormal side of the spectrum:

"Actually, do you mind celebrating the New Year's Eve with us on board?"

"New Year's Eve? You mean celebrating the end of the Old year and the beginning of the New one? Is that a human tradition?"

"Yes on both questions, consider it as a friendship and professional courtesy."

"I will think about it, but the…"

"As long as there is a Quarian in the party, no AI will be allowed to enter. I will have them disconnected from the room's system in the mean time."

"Understood, thanks for your understanding."

"You're welcomed."

The screen of the datapad quickly dimmed down, returning to the "sleep" mode. It was only at that moment that Xijang dared to breathe out loudly, releasing the stress accumulating in his heart. At least the Quarian bored no evident hatred to him or mankind in general, though it would be harder to say about his commander.

Well, one challenge at a time then. Besides, if the worst came to reality, it would still be in expectation, namely, a First Contact War. Even though Xijang had already ordered Serina not to intruding in the alien ship electronics system, he knew that there was likelihood that his second-in-command would order the AI to do so, or at least have the ship's structure being scanned and recorded.

Then, a new message arrived. The tone and the rhythm told him that it was a report being sent from his subordinates. Grunting, he put down his glass and opened up the file, it was a collection of reports actually, compiled by Lieutenant Commander Cho Minhu, or Mina in short, along with electronic surveillance from Serina. While the encryption on the message was not broken, mostly for the lack of trying, but it was deduced that the ship had been sending continuous reports through the Relay, assuming to the commanding officer.

The next few reports were not so important. His crews reported on how to differentiate one Quarian from another, mostly with their suits and helmets. The Mess Hall informed him of a sharp decline in consumption of grain in edible form… and a steady increase in its liquid form (or alcohol, for short)… And the civilian specialists noted down something on the Quarian ship, the same idea was proposed by Mina.

The ship was too old to be a credible space-worthy vessel. Granted, the ship could fly, and it boasted a good maneuverability, far surpass what Terran Navy had for the same size or tonnage. However, despite the good performance, its appearance left much for desire. First, the bow section had more than two shades of white, some looked ivory-white while some were more of a grey-ish color. In addition, the starboard of the ship has a few parts being taken away, cannibalized would be a good word. These showed that the ship had been in use for a long time and had not received and major maintenance.

That idea put some alarms down. Why the Quarians fail to do a proper maintenance would be a good start. No, it could be worse. The Codex they sent had already mentioned the Citadel Council, but details were sparse and the Captain was uncomfortable with telling him. A good question would be why the Quarians were still using the old ship? Something told him that it concerned both the absence of "Citadel Council" in their talk as well as their hatred for Artificial Intelligence.

Turning on a new app on the datapad, he began writing a report. Even if that was just a hunch, the High Command should still be informed about it. After all, the situation sounded disturbingly alike to the franchise Wanderers, and Xijang had been taught to never rely on chances and probability.

* * *

 **Location:**  
Hangar Four  
Outpost Hotel-Omega 129  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Orientals

 **Time:**  
14:09 – Terran Standard time  
15 January 2201

"Yes, Dad, I'm still fine and dandy."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Dad, I'm sure. I'm 25 already, I know when I'm fine and when I'm not."

"But those aliens…"

"Are practically humans living on another world, spiritually at least. They are good guys, so far, there is not much for you to be afraid of."

"Be careful son, they are aliens, and we know nothing about them. So you should be polite to them."

"Yes, Dad."

"You should not point fingers at them or whisper behind their backs too."

"Yes, Dad."

"And remember what your commander ordered you."

"Yes, Dad."

"Do not slack off, son, for that is not what we do. We are hard-workers, we complete our assignments first, then we kick back and relax."

"Yes, Dad."

The scene unfolding before Yaenna'Naalas vas Iktomi was quite… surreal. The young, talented and practically fearless human engineer, "Tran Kien Vuong", was answering the phone call with a very dull voice. The attitude of this engineer was… disrespectful, more so when the one on the other end was his father. Was any human the same like him?

When Yaenna was still puzzled, two other humans had already approached her from behind, looking over her shoulder. Wearing the same black hardsuits (which seemed to be mass-produced originally), they were hard to be distinguished from each other in the beginning, and her lack of familiarity with the human did little help in telling them apart, even if those humans were wearing helmets with transparent visors. She had no idea who they were until she looked at the name tags on the left chests: "Yuri Malashenko" and "Jack Daniels". They were also "Mech-pilot" like the man he was watching.

The one on the left, "Yuri", asked her with concern shown clearly in his voice. Even though he was still using his mother tongue (or common language, she was not very sure), his speech was translated with a program installed in her suit and transmitted to her earpiece inside the helmet.

"Yaenna, is everything okay?"

Still, she had… quite a problem fitting in, not in a bad way though. The Galaxy… or at least the Citadel Council only employed the Quarians simply for their cheap labour force and their technical expertise, but mostly the cheap expense though. The price though employers paid her people was borderline to "nothing", which was still luckier than a few unfortunate souls got captured by the four-eyes or falsely charged by the birds. No, the humans here had nothing but respect to here. Granted, they did not use any honorific and skip straight to calling her with her given name (which should be quite a grave social mistake in Quarian community).

However, such was the way engineers work, Quarians and humans could agree on this part. They preferred keeping the social niceties and etiquette to get straight into the main problem. Sure, the human engineers here let loose quite a tirades and swearing whenever they encountered a problem, but the same could be said about her people. Engineers everywhere enjoyed letting loose whenever they encountered a problem, it seemed.

Turning back the whole body to face the two black hard-suits of the human engineers, she shook her head and answered them:

"Yes, everything is alright… though why does that guy…"

"Oh, you mean him? Vuong just has over-bearing parents, that's all. Part of the reason why he took up the assignment with the military once graduated, really."

"Poor bastard."

"Да. Twenty-five and his parents still make him call them every week. And since you Quarians appear, it is more like once every two or three days."

Yaenna suddenly felt a dampening on her spirit. These humans… they would not be xenophobic, would they not? But the humans on board the station, most of them being military, should be the xenophobic one, not the civilian back home. And even those "should-be" were the ones who had been nothing but polite to her. The situation was really strange.

"Don't worry. They are just… well, Asian parents. The parents are very protective of their children. That is nothing to be afraid of, as long as you don't plan to hurt him, that is."

"Asian parents?"

"Right, I forget that you are an alien. No offence. The Asian is a… racial sub-classification of humanity, used in extensive range before we human left our home system. You could say they have the most diverse and the richest culture among all racial sub-groups of mankind."

"And let me guess, the over-protectiveness for the children is iconic for these… Asian parents?"

"You are correct Yaenna. It is troublesome for me, but after all, one can only choose his friends, not his family."

The calm voice of the "Tran Kien Vuong" human appeared behind her, startling the female Quarian engineer. However, the two humans standing in front of her did not even look surprise in the least degree. They just smirked, knowing their friend was approaching her silently behind to prank her.

Yaenna turned around, scowling under her visor. She knew that the humans would be unable to notice that, but she still inject some sourness into her voice:

"Don't you know that startling a lady is undignified?"

"Really? I think girls enjoy surprise?"

A chuckle was hear behind her back, look like Vuong's two friends were sharing an inside joke. She had a pretty good idea what it was, probably concerning the human standing in front of her having no girlfriend or even a prospect romantic partner.

He was… well, dumb in this part. No wonder why he was still single though. Haiz, if he could be at least be more understanding about the… delicacy of women and girls. He was quite a good guy, polite, smart and punctual. She did not know much if he could hold his own ground, but his spirit and patience did not find themselves wanting. Still, a clueless man still had certain charms, as long as he had the skills and competence to back it up. Well, and if that man was a Quarian, really.

Too bad that the time for work was approaching soon enough. The human engineers quickly stood up and splited into groups. The Mech-piloting duty on that day fell to two other guys in the group: an "Indian" and a "South American", the three guys she spoken to earlier were put in observation and supporting role.

The job in this situation was not building any new modules for the human's Outpost, but rather, giving a Quarian ship a new armor hull. That was the result of a long and stretched discussion between the Admirals of two species. The Quarians were spooked because of human using Artificial Intelligence, and the humans were afraid because her people were the first "true" aliens they had met.

It took a lot of patience and leaps of faith to have the two sides reach a temporary agreement. More details would be ironed out later, but at least, for the moment, two people would enjoy a time of peace and friendship. Yaenna was not informed on the precise details of the agreement, most of them were considered as secrets, but that was not her main concern. She was more interested in the engineering prowess of the humans than the political situation.

Well, that, and how the humans could prevent the AIs from taking over their lives (or stop them from rebelling, for that matter). However, she still had no idea on how to ask them, fearing that question would be too… confrontational.

Behind the reinforced glass window, the two Mech suits quickly took off, exhausting the carbon dioxide canister to accelerate and change the direction. While she had watched the scene a few times already, it still gave her an exhilarating feeling. It was as if she was watching something liberating and wonderful, something that many Quarians could only dream for. She once asked the team to let her try piloting one, but their answer was simply a refuse. The training and the teaching required for one was too much, each of them took nearly two years to earn the privilege to pilot one, and they understood clearly how hard to control such a suit.

Yaenna pouted behind her mask, she should ask where she could learn to pilot one soon. May be the humans would agree and send her to the best place, after all, they were still trying to appease her people as much as possible. Of course, that was just a pipe dream of her… She sincerely hoped that the humans and Quarians could establish a friendly relationship. That way, she could officially apply to be a Mech-pilot without "going around".

Still, the operation taking place at the moment was more interesting than day dreaming. She approached the bundle group the human engineers and stood on the toe behind them. However, it was still hard to see the screen clearly. She could only see the back of their heads (which were covered with fur, in different colors too) and the glimpse of some simmering drinks in their hands. Their helmets, meanwhile, were put off on a table and a couch nearby. Luckily, they quickly noticed her discomfort and gave her some space to stand in…

And the smell of their drink was really nice. The aroma was… wonderful, somehow just smelling it made her felt a bit more energized. Slightly turning to the side, she kept staring into the dark hot liquid held by the man called "Abdel Nour Hamdani". It was as if the smell was becoming stronger with each second she spent staring into it. The conversation among the human sounded dimmed in her ears.

A sudden finger snapping appeared in front of her eyes, awaking her from the gaze. It was no one other than the owner of the cup she had been staring at.

"Are you alright? You have been staring at my coffee for a minute now."

"That is called… coffee?"

"Yeah, a drink that gives us some extra energy, waking us from sleep in the morning and keeping us awake at night if we want to."

"Can I have some?"

The human engineers just glanced at each other, not knowing what to say. On the one hand, it was common professional and friendship courtesy to share the coffee among engineers, especially the good ones. On the other hand, they were not informed on the difference between human and Quarian biology apart from the fact that the alien used a different type of protein than human. The precise details were still being researched and had yet to be released.

The man next to her hesitated:

"Uhm… are you sure? We do not know if this drink is safe for you or not…"

"Do you know how much we want a drink like that? A drink which can fend off drossiness and sleep, the Migrant Fleet would pay handsomely for it."

"But what if you folks have allergic reaction to the drink?"

Without speaking a word, Yaenna raised her omni-tool and activated it. The humans widened their eyes, staring at the alien tool with amazement filling in them. She was quite surprise, but quickly remembered that these humans had very limited access to Element Zero, and with omni-tool also required it to be manufactured, it was not really surprising that they did not have any functional one in their arsenal.

The yellow light ray from the omni-tool scanned over the simmering liquid in the paper cup. The time was slowly ticking, and she meant it literally, her omni-tool reported its progress with periodical beeping sound. Eventually, the process was completed, resulting in a phrase written in Khelish.

"Don't worry, I just check it, the drink is safe for my consumption. So… can I have one?"

Blinking a few times to take in the situation, "Abdel" wordlessly gave his coffee for "Jack" for safekeeping before stepping off to a nearby table, the one with a transparent pot on it. Yaenna quickly noticed that it was holding a dark liquid, and it must be the same as the one these humans were drinking. The human quickly took out a mug nearby and fill in with the hot drink.

Yaenna noticed that he glanced toward two other containers on the table, one was a hard-looking transparent jar with some kind of white sand inside, and the other was a paper carton. May be those were complemented ingredients to use with the "coffee"?

The human engineer quickly returned with the drink in his hand. Receiving it in her hand, she brought it up to the inlet port on her mask. Even though the air had been filtered by a dozen of layers, she was still able to feel the faint aroma of the drink. If it remained noticeable even after the famous Quarian air filters, what would it smell like once she tried it directly?

Yaenna could not wait to find out. She activated her induction port, or "straw" as common language called it. Under the wide-opening eyes of the human engineers, she sipped the drink, carefully of course, she knew the drink was still pretty hot. If she was not paying caution, her tongue would be burned pretty badly.

And the sensation hit her. First, it was just the strong bitter taste of the drink. The unfamiliar taste made her scowling under the mask, which the humans were not aware of, of course. She always had her helmet on, after all. Then, the feeling hit her. It was as if she had been washed over and injected with some energy. Freshness and eagerness ran through her body, asking her to do something useful.

The feeling was slowly strengthened with each gulp she took from the drink. The more she drank, the more ready and awake she became. Yaenna could only imagine what these engineers felt when they had their drink. It would be something similar, she supposed. Still, the bitter taste was not easy to enjoy.

"Thanks for the drink… The taste is really strong and enjoyable, it awakes me from the drossiness that I am unaware of."

The engineer with "over-protective" parents suddenly laughed, excitement was evident with his tone:

"See, I told you already. That is real and proper coffee, not the tasteless shit you Western sell in the vending machine."

"Yeah yeah yeah. We got that already man, your country is prideful about the coffee."

"He has a point Arthur, the coffee at your home is crap. No offence."

The human called "Arthur" just grunted, but he did not refute that line, probably because it was a truth. After all, he was enjoying the coffee made in the "proper" method. Saying it was not as tasty as the one from his home (which was a lie) would be highly hypocrite. Chuckling, Abdel asked her:

"Don't mind Vuong. He just really hates the tasteless coffee he had to drink during university to stay awake. He just wants to, well, enjoys the lost time there. Does the taste suit you? Is it too bitter?"

"… Thanks, it is quite bitter actually. Don't get me wrong, it is wonderful, just too bitter for my taste, I prefer something sweet, actually. And is it supposed to be always bitter like this?"

"Oh, that. It depends on the actual drinker. If you want something sweet, you can try adding some sugar or condense milk on the table over there. Take as much as you want, our treat."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, technically, we all chip in to buy them. But the military is paying the bills these days so… feel free to take as much as you want."

"As long as you do not take the sugar to make some bombs. And if you want to do so, call me."

"No one is as crazy as you Quasay. We are not some pyromaniacs who enjoy seeing things burnt down to a crisp."

"Vuong enjoys blowing things up though."

"On video games only. And it was not me who blew up the university lab. It is interesting to know that the culprit has yet to be captured."

A short banter was traded among the group. For a group of friends who had been seeing each other for a long time, some friendly jabs like that were totally expected. However, Yaenna paid them no attention, she was too busy with adding ingredients to her drink. Of course, she still had to scan over the sweeteners first, just in case of an allergy.

It was too bad that she could not try the "condense milk", which contained levo-protein. It would be inedible at best and poisonous at worst. While she wanted her drink to be sweet, she did not want to taste her luck now and decided to take the safe route: sugar.

At least it was still carbon-hydro organic materials, of which she could safely consume. She poured in some extra coffee, mostly hoping for a large trying sample. Then, spoon by spoon, the sugar was added, after each the drink was tried and tasted. Finally, the sweetness had met her level of desire.

Holding the coffee in her hand, Yaenna briskly walked back to the working station, or rather, a row of screens. It appeared that the two Mech-pilots had already reached the Quarian frigate Naraanda. She was one of the… oldest patrol craft in the Migrant Fleet, and she was slated to be a close quarter patrol for the Civilian Fleet. Yaenna knew that it was just a few weeks left before the fate of the ship ended like many others. The ship would be cannibalized, its parts would be used to maintain the lives of others.

It was brutal, but it was a necessary move. Without doing so, the Fleet would suffer set back, not much, but it would be a few ships. While a few ships sounded small compared to an armada of over fifty thousand vessels, she knew that it was better to have one ship ended its life with honor and distinction than to have three disappearing in flame and anguish.

On the bright side, all four ships concerned here would be saved by the First Contact with humans. The Naraanda would be fixed, free of charge, by the human engineers, while materials were donated so that the other three were fixed. Four ships meant little for the giant Migrant Fleet, but she knew that it was the spirit that made the count. After all, the decision was made on the personal behalf of the Captain of the Outpost (under the acceptance of his Admiral).

If a Captain was able to save four ships, what would their entire Federation able to do? Yaenna had been wondering for the answer, and she was watching it unfolded. The armor plates on the frigate were being removed carefully with a highly focused beam of plasma from the hands of the Mech. Watching the scene, she was startled by how fast they could work. In just fifteen minutes, two Mech-pilots had done as much as a full engineering team of the Fleet in an hour. To think these guys were just the standard in the Federation…

For some reason, Yaenaa started giggling and bouncing, she could not hold back her excitement. She really looked forward to the day when humans and Quarians become friends. Her people would have the ability to quickly fix and upgrade their ships, the rate of cannibalism would drop significantly, allowing them a better life.

"Er… Yaenna? Are you alright?"

The humans were staring at her, fear and surprise were quite… evident. She ignored those and kept giggling while answering the question:

"Of course I'm fine, better than ever actually. Thanks to your wonderful coffee and sugar."

They glanced at each other, unsure of what had just happened, before one was able to gather his courage and asked:

"So… how much sugar did you take?"

"Uhm…. I don't know. Ten spoons?"

And then, all seven humans present in the room muttered the same line:

"Shit."

* * *

Captain Lee Xijang sighed while watching the screen. Standing next to him, Captain Zare Rozu was not much better, it was as if someone had just sapped the energy out of him. Considering what had just happened, he would not be too surprised.

"So, let me repeat. You gave Miss Naalas some coffee."

"Yes sir, grinded and brewed by us."

"And then you allow her to have some sugar to drink with."

"Yes sir."

"She does that on her own, with no supervision from you guys."

"Yes sir."

"Because you believe she is a grown-up, she can take care of her own?"

"Yes sir."

"And then, while you guys are unaware, she takes ten spoons of sugar for one mug of coffee?"

"Yes sir."

"She has the whole mug emptied in a single sip?"

"Yes sir."

"And then she keeps giggling and bouncing around?"

"Yes sir."

"Then she decides to jump around the whole room, damaging the furniture and tools while she was at it?"

"Yes sir."

"And all of you seven decided to jump on her, restrain her to a chair with zip tie?"

"Yes sir."

"Somehow, she was still able to break free, causing you to chase after her and suspend the operation on the Quarian frigate Naraanda?"

"… Yes sir."

"And then, you trace her down to the Mess Hall, where she was drinking more coffee from the major brewer?"

"Yes sir."

"That is the time you guys decide to knock her out with a hit to the back of her head and tie her up?"

"Yes sir."

"So why does you guys tie her up in BDSM-style?"

"Er… Because it works?"

"Is that a question?"

"No sir, I… I mean we tie her up in BDSM-style because it works best in the given circumstances sir."

"… You know what, I haven't taken my afternoon drink, and there was no major fall-out happened, so I'm letting you off the hook this time."

"Thank you sir."

"But next time, you would be in the brig for causing a commotion and being disrespect to superior officer."

"Sir, we are all civilian…"

"Are you questioning MY order, specialists?"

"… No, sir."

"Good. Back to your work. This is Captain Lee Xijang, over and out."

Xijang slumped back down on his chair under, breathing out in tiredness. He had already had the hunch, throwing a bunch of engineers together without specialized supervision would be a disaster waiting to happen. Add in the aliens and First Contact scenario, he was more surprised with the fact that he was still alive than the fact that it had actually happened.

Next to him, Captain Zare Rozu seemed to be in the state of depressed too. The female Quarian engineer was under his command after all. He was responsible for her behavior on board the Outpost Hotel-Omega 29, including the… chaotic activities she had shown earlier today.

"I would like to apologize on behalf of my crew, Captain."

"Apology accepted, but I think I should be the one doing so. I was the one propose the idea to have engineers from each of our people to interact with each other."

"And I should have cautioned you, we Quarians are… quirky in our own ways, and the engineering specialists are even more so."

"The human engineers are not the sanest tool in the box either…"

"Keelah se'lai."

"May the Ancestors watch over us."

The two Captains sat in silence to commemorate the craziness of the engineering crew section. Those men were good, but they had quite a deviation from the norm. The situation happened today was a prime example of that. On the bright side, it gave the crew on both sides a good laugh after a long day at work. Not everything was terrible, after all.

"But Captain, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"You mentioned the phrase BDSM a bit earlier. What does it mean by the way? The translation matrix fails to give me a meaningful word."

Xijang cursed under his breath. He pulled out the half-emptied alcohol bottle from under his desk and watched in with lingering gaze. He would need that to calm down at night. Wordlessly, he opened up his datapad, typed in some command before sliding it to his counter-part.

That night, both Captain did not report to their respective bridge due to their "intoxication".


	5. Chapter 4

Response to review - Thank you for supporting me in this story

 **Olav152** : Thank you for your information. As of this moment (a few weeks before First Contact War), our dear friend Mordin has not been born yet. However, I can safely assume that his parents are still alive and kicking. I'm planning for a cameo of theirs - with a vodka and coffee cocktail (because why not?). The human's army (including Army and Navy) would be on the side of "specialised yet flexible enough to deal with any troubles". Considering their coming opposition (read: unprovoked attacks, and then war) from the Turians, it would be like "I've seen this in history books" (considering how much time and effort humans had spent in real life to kill each other, that would be a... correct way to say so)

 **general-joseph-dickson** : In my story, I'm planning to have the officers being the sane type, the non-commissioned and the enlisted would be too much of a hot shot, and the brass would enjoy crackling some evil laughs while drawing up the plans. I'm planning to add in some... insane (and hillarious) characters from the Admirals and Generals

 **Watcher123** : That idea of your is practically what I'm applying here. The humans and the Quarians had been relatively peaceful and respectful towards each other. Sure, they still withhold many information: the Quarians keep a tight lead on the Citadel Council, and the humans just tell the Quarians about two human worlds (Shanxi in the system, and "Earth" is "very far away). In this chapter, the relationship between the two would be deepened a bit, clearing the way for the next chapter (the Admirals' talk, and the Turian). Shit would happen, as usual.

 **CReaper210** : Thank you for your support. I would try to keep up my skills then

 **timgr** : Thank you for your comment. Hope that you would enjoy this chapter

* * *

This chapter has over 9000 words, excluding the author's note and quote. That is a new record for this re-write. Sure, I get a bit over-board while kind-of giving some background information and re-use the text from the previous version, along with the addition of the song's lyrics in the end. But still, it is a new record

* * *

War is always a matter of doing evil in the hope that something good may come out of it  
\- Sir Basel Liddel Hart (1895-1970), Captain of the [former] British Army, military theorist, journalist

* * *

 **Location:**  
On board CGL-445 _Berlin_ – Flag ship of 16th Cruiser Squadron  
Orbiting over Shanxi  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental

 **Time:**  
10:06 – Terran Standard time  
16 January 2201

Commodore Richard Jenkins sat down on the couch, serving coffee for his companions. While he could delegate the task to his aides, he still preferred brewing the drink by himself, it was the only way to make sure the brewage was "proper". Not that he had anything against his staff, it was just a habit of him which was drilled into existence under the barrels of the guns (literally). Besides, personally making coffee like this would be seen as a sign of sincerity, which was quite important when dealing with First Contact scenario. It was even more when his companions were high echelon officers coming from main subsidiaries of the Quarian Migrant Fleet.

The situation was especially true when the alien and the human had a severe disagreement on the usage of the AIs. The former was practically massacred down to a few men by Artificial Intelligences, and the latter was using those for almost every day activities. Saying it was an obstacle in building the relationship with the Quarian was a mild understatement.

On the bright side, the chaotic scene with a coffee-and-sugar overdosed Quarian engineer on the Outpost the previous day had eased down the strain relationship. Combined with the offer to fix a few ships and to donate materials for a few others, Navy officers from two sides could at least sit down without checking for their fire-arms. They were not friends yet, but it could be called "acquaintance", and the relationship was definitely not hostile.

Richard would take what he could have. For a First Contact scenario went haywire, it was much better than what he and his commanders have been afraid of. So far, three weeks and no one had died, which was… surprisingly low for recorded "First Contact" in human history. Granted, most of the deaths began after one year mark, but it was not the point. The point was that the upper echelon of the Terran Federation wanted to keep and officially establish a friendly relationship with the Quarian. In the meanwhile, his job was to keep them happy, and to fish out some intelligence if possible.

For the High Command, they did not really want to push the aliens into revealing the information about the… mysterious alien conglomerate called "Citadel Council". The risk for the relationship to break down was quite unnerving. The details supplied by them were too few, too little and too unclear to draw up a reliable plan. However, with what was given, the humans had been spooked beyond comprehension. An alliance with more than a few thousand years in its history means the humans would be put both at numerical and technological disadvantage. To put it in respective, the difference between two sides was even much larger than humans of early 23rd century compared to the Stone Age. The chance for human to win a war with them would be slim, just slightly larger than the chance for them to be alive by the end of it.

Watching the aliens picking up their drinks, Richard knew clearly that these aliens may have the key for humanity's survival. They may or may not know that, but they had it, and it was his job to obtain it, preferably in a peaceful manner.

"Wonderful drink, Captain, at least now I can understand why Miss Naalas still asks for it while still being tied down to the bed."

The one saying so was Senior Captain Maale'Gidda vas Leelazi of the Heavy Scout Flotilla. It was interesting to know the way Migrant Fleet work. The top leaders of the Fleet were four Admirals of the four respective Fleets: the Civilian Fleet, the Patrol Fleet, the Heavy Fleet and Special Project Fleet. The passage of time had rendered the traditional command hierarchy ineffective (another way to say "wipe out"), leading to a fairly simple structure in the Quarian Fleet. Each "main" fleet would be divided into smaller sections called "Flotilla", usually each had a specific mission role or an operation area. The flotilla would commanded by the most senior Captain, each commanding their own vessels.

It was quite unorthodox and unofficial, but it seemed that this way had been functioning well enough for the aliens for the past three hundred years or so. Besides, it was not Richard's business to evaluate that system. The Institute would take care of that, one way or another. It still suited Rich fine, though, despite his rank as a Commodore, he still missed the day when he was a Captain, personally commanding his own ship. There were hectic and crazy days, but good days nonetheless.

"Wait until you can try our alcohols Captain Gidda. That is the second drink that we Navy enjoy."

"No disrespect Captain Jenkins, but there is no ways that you humans can brew better alcohol that us. We have three hundred years of depression, some say the only thing keeps our Fleet from going through a mass suicide is our alcohol."

"Really? Pray tell. From our own experience, alcohol and ship should not go with each other."

The key word was "should". Any sailor worth his salt would know how to smuggle drink on board or brew some directly with the ship's tools. Sure, it was against regulations, but then, for the files and ranks, most of the rules were guidelines, not restrictions. For Richard, even though he graduated from the most prestige Naval Academy, he still moved up the ladder from the bottom, he knew what the average sailor think. Most of their thoughts, other than the mission, contained reference to alcohol, pay and pussy, which was pretty much standard for any male specimen of the human.

"You are correct Captain. Though they can go together as long as there is someone sober keeping watch. Well, someone sane and sober."

"Hear. Hear."

"Though to be fair, it would be hard to find someone like that in our fleet when alcohol has been issued. The last time we did that, we have to suspend all official activity on the ship and lock down crucial systems, just in case someone gets so drunk that he pushes the wrong button."

"Let me guess, the button to fire the main gun?"

"And the broadside, combined with disruptor torpedoes and GUARDIAN array."

"It sounds… painful."

But the phrase catches the interest of Richard. Maale had mentioned two new items on an EA-equipped warship (short for "Element Alpha"), namely the broadside guns and disruptor torpedoes. He knew the latter one, it was mentioned within the Prothean Archive on Mars. However, restriction on raw material of Element Alpha and the abundance of better weaponry (namely: nuclear missiles) led to its disappearance in the space warfare doctrine of human. In addition, the ship-mounted torpedoes were simulated and proven to be mediocre to the fighter-mounted nukes, from economic to tactical values.

The broadside guns, on the other hand, picked his interest. Their usage suggested the static combat formation: the ship would expose their side with the greatest cross-section area to the enemy to maximize the numbers of guns being fired. Granted, their main weapons were their main guns and their torpedoes, but the appearance of static gun turrets shown that their naval doctrine was not as… rich as human's. Or in a worse situation, they knew that, but this static doctrine had been proven effective with their available resources. Either way, Richard really hoped that they would not have to prove which tactics was better.

"Correct, it is very painful… Anyway, I think we should focus on our main objective today."

"Which is?"

"Continue our negotiation. Sure, our Admirals have already agreed to some friendship gestures, but they still prefer something more meaningful."

"Let me guess, your commanders are either too lazy or too stuck in paperwork to do the work by themselves?"

"… Something likes that."

"OK. So, we are supposed to trade information right? What do you want to know? Please note that there is certain information that I'm not allowed to discuss, I would notify you if it comes to that."

"Understood… So, the first item in business, how do you call the ship we are sitting on now?"

The discussion began quickly after that, luckily, most of the details were not precisely "confidential". Most was the operative word there, Richard had to keep many details vague or simply not to mention them, for example, the total number of ship being used by the Federation or the number of ship laying in ambush at the edge of the system. The first was always a secret, and the second would be very harmful to the warming relationship between two people (even though it was ignited with a facepalm-worthy incident).

Element Alpha, despite its middle finger towards traditional physics, still had its limitation, namely its abundance and the ship's size. A "cruiser" in their doctrine could be catalogued as a frigate (albeit on the heavy spectrum) in the Terran dictionary book, and a "dreadnaught" would be called a light cruiser. The whole information sounded intimidating for the Quarian, but at least they knew that it was due to the availability of resources. The human had their own prototype Faster-than-light travel before colonization of their own system, combined with the total absence of Element Alpha, the human had no choice but to perfect their "Shock Warp Drive", which had no restriction on size, despite its bulky and heavy weight.

So, on average, size for size and true mass for mass, EA-equipped ships had better mobility, higher shell velocity and higher firing rate, but the Terran ships would have better amour and hull structure, cargo capacity and the total level of destruction. Something was given for something lost after all. However, that was on theory, there was no way to see if one's Navy was better than the other, and to be fair, Richard had no desire to test it out.

The Quarian commanders quickly asked for more details about the ships in general, Senior Captain Gidda had interest in the armour structure, especially the ones being used to upgrade the broken Quarian ships at the moment. The materials used were carbon nanotube and iridum-titanium, which were installed in alternative layers. While the version was civilian-grade, it was still a major improvement for the aging vessels of the Migrant Fleet.

Meanwhile, Senior Captain Zozu, coming from the Civilian Fleet, was interested in the term "modularized" mentioned by Richard. Humanity had already been familiar with it since World War Two, with the T-34 and M-4 tank series being prime example. However, it seemed the Quarians did not have the chance to understand the power of that design, the main reason was that they had no World War in their history. Richard had no idea if it was a blessing or a curse.

Still, he explained to them in the easiest way to understand. In the simplest term, for each ship class, a basic hull structure would be built before hand. Well, it was just a bare hull with no armour, no engine, no weapon, no electronics system, there was nothing on it. When an order from the High Command arrived, detailing the specific requirements, the equipments would be installed immediately. If the ship was to be deployed for raiding, it would be equipped with a more powerful engine and more side thrusters. For an anti-piracy ship, it would have a large sensor range and high mobility in addition to its light anti-ship weapons. For a ship of the line, well, it would be armed to the teeth with everything human could squeeze into the vessel.

Over the passage of time, the designs of the ships were constantly improved, allowing a high production rate as well as ease in maintenance. The diversity and flexibility of the designs were still maintained, allowing the ships to take on a wide range of mission profiles. Even with specialized roles being "made" with the specific missions, certain parts of the load-out could still be added or swapped, allowing the vessels to take on its originally un-intended missions.

"Captain, you say that your people learn the modular design in the hard way? What do you mean?"

"Well… the answer for that question… I have the clearance to answer that. But the question is if you want to know it."

"Well, we sure want to know it. Please entertain us on this one."

"The answer is a period in our history called World War Two."

"World… War?"

To be fair, Richard did not really feel comfortable speaking about that period of history to an alien. To another human was quite normal, it was common knowledge, but having a war on an intra-planetary scale before achieving space flight was something quite troublesome, if the fanfiction online was a reliable guesswork.

"It was a war contained on a single world, spanning over the entire, or most of, the planet's surface?"

It was Senior Captain Zozu again, fear and surprise were evident in his native Kheelish. Even though Richard only had some very basic understanding on a few words, he had been able to vaguely understand the emotion behind the tone. And then, the Quarian Captain of the Civilian Fleet was quite disturbed by this piece of information. To be fair, he was a commander of "civilian", and in general, not many civilians enjoyed war.

"You are correct. It was one of the most bloodied events in our history."

"Well… to be fair, we Quarians also had something similar. The Salanoe War also saw much bloodshed, it was quite a pity, one of our most prestige colonies was turned into a ruin after three years of constant fighting between two factions of our people."

To be fair, they had it lucky. A colony suggested a lower advancement on infrastructure compared to the homeworld. Even with more than a century focusing on space, no colony, planet-based or space-colony, could boast an as developed system as Earth. To think human fought World War Two even before they looked to the space and in a much longer time…

"Actually, you have it a bit wrong, Captain Gidda. We have World War Two before we obtained any form of space capability, including reaching the orbital. In addition, depending on the count, the war lasted for seven to nine years."

If the Quarians were not stunned before, they would be then. Apparently, many media works had it correct, humans seemingly were the only race to have war before the reach the space. In comparison, most aliens would only fight among themselves when the disagreement between the colonies and the home planet reached a critical boiling point. Even then, they would follow a strict set of rules for engagement, including the ridiculously "rest time" like in the "Musketeers and Spaceships" series. The humans, well, they simply gave the rules the middle finger to ensure their survival.

To cover his increasing heart rate and frustration, Richard picked up his coffee, spending a few moments watching his guests glancing at each other. He silently hoped that High Command knew what they were doing when saying every piece of information on World War two would be allowed to be given to the Quarians. The first real usage of nuclear weapons, the mass industrialization of weapon manufacturing complex, the massacres, the concentration camps, the racism attitudes… Humanity could sit down all day and they still failed to give a short list of what was wrong with that war.

To be fair, if there was any "good" thing coming out of the War, it would be the first step for humanity to conquer space and a new source of (relatively) clean and plentiful energy. In addition, it opened a new chapter of (somewhat) peace and prosperity for human. The peace was maintained for over a century. Sure, Annihilation War almost broke out a few times, but the humanity still lived by the end of the day, so for an average Joe, it was still… acceptable.

The situation completely changed with the "Judgment Operation" launced by the DPRK – Democratic People's Republic of Korea, well-known as North Korea. Sure, they were quite mentally unstable in the first place, but the more insane part was that other countries with nuclear weapons still have the "Doomsday Protocol", of which origin could be traced down to the days humanity lived in fear of sudden death due to nuclear fireballs. The Protocol, in a nutshell, could be said as "I don't know who is firing nukes at me, but it is probably the ones who hate me, so I will launch my own in retaliation".

On the bright side, instead of a seven-plus billion deaths, the total casualties were just about 200 million, or 2.86 percent of the worst case scenario. Till this day, humanity had no idea if they should cheer or cry for that situation. On the one hand, the loss was significantly lower than what they had been afraid, on the other hand, it opened up the scene for World War Three, the total death of which was roughly one billion, excluding the deaths of Judgment Day.

Putting down his coffee, Richard calmly said:

"I've told you before, we would be totally honest with you when establishing the relationship. Either we tell you the fullest account of what had happened, or we would say nothing and claim it as a secret. I sincerely hope that you can push away any prejudge on our people."

"… We appreciate that. The idea is just a bit incomprehensible for us. You are saying that you people have been waging wars on planetary scale, at least twice, before you reach space?"

"Correct."

"Well, at least I don't think you people would use any Weapon of Mass Destruction or make a new World War after that."

Richard tensed up, knowing that this was the moment of truth. While he had already gotten the green light from the High Command, he knew that it was still unsettling to say it outright to the aliens. After all, their Geth Rebellion took place nearly three centuries ago, but half of the delegation here had already vowed to "shoot and kill" any AIs appearing in their sight, be it Quarian-made or Human-built. At least they were still calm and mature enough to accept his assurance the room would be "free" of any live-time AI monitoring.

"Actually… you are wrong."

The whole delegation was stunned. Three intra-planetary scale wars before reaching space was a bizarre concept to them. From their version of "Codex", Richard knew that the number of war on such scale was very low, and even then, it was better to dub them as "inter-planetary" war, the "Rachni War", the "Krogan Rebellion" and the "Geth Rebellion". Only those three major wars took place within the "Citadel Council Codex, Quarian version", none of them had any mention or input on any weapons could be considered as "Mass Destruction", orbital attacks included.

Sure, there should be a few more unrests or conflicts, but none of them was "worthy" to be mentioned. Hell, the Codex even stated that after the Geth Rebellion, the Galaxy "entered a stage of peace and prosperity". It sounded disturbingly like some bull-crap in human's history, and in combination with a distinct lack of specific information on other races, the Codex was reek of bullshitery for the humans. However, Richard was well-trained enough not to say it directly to the face of the delegation.

"Captain, could you clarify that?"

"We… well, to finish World War Two on the second theater, we deployed nuclear weapons for the first time, and two devices were used. One century later, World War Three was ignited, this time it was started with nuclear attacks."

The situation instantly went ape-shit. Senior Captain Gidda and Zozu dropped their cups of coffee on the ground, another Captains choked on their drink and the last one sounded like he just spitted coffee inside the helmet.

He should teach them the concept of "Murphy" soon. The last thing they should be aware of was how paranoid human could be when it came to First Contact. A full Fleet, with even extra forces from other formations, was laying at the edge of the system. Evacuation advice had been given to the local colony, Shanxi, seeing the departure of half the population, along with tourists and other civilian specialists. In addition, over the past two weeks, the planet had been reinforced with hundreds of thousands of men, ready to repel any attacks. The reason for such paranoia was, well, human media. After all, picturing what could possibly go wrong in a First Contact scenario was a compulsory lesson for all official personnel, military, administrative and judicial included.

Hell, even the _Berlin_ had been rigged with explosives and her crews were armed to the teeth, just in case the aliens suddenly had the desire to become pirates or martyrs. The less said about the Outpost, the better. Richard would not be surprised if the Navy decided to detach a Destroyer formation to guard it, and only Hell would know how the Marines were planning to defend it from the boarders.

"Three… three World Wars before space flight?"

"Technically, the last one saw heavy usage of orbital scanners, satellites and very limited orbital support."

"And you humans use nuclear weapons on a Garden world? YOUR homeworld?"

"One, they were both low yield and leave little long term effect on the environment. Two, it was more preferable than the outcome of the opposite action."

"What could be worse than hundreds of thousands died due to nuclear weapons?"

"Two hundred thousand people were killed directly due those two nuclear devices and the war ended a few days after. To put it in respective, the other option was to launch a frontal assault and fight the way to rough terrain, expected casualty was about two million, that was the most optimistic by the way, and the war would be extended by a year by minimum."

"What? Two… million? That… that is insane! Expected casualty for a battle like that… the Asari would instantly ask for a ceasefire, and the Salarian would ramp up their espionage warfare to a whole new level."

To be fair, the day was bad, but it was still salvageable. After all, the young Captain who spit his coffee had accidentally revealed information on two of the "big three" races. Apparently, the stereotypes stated that the "Asari" (or "blue space chicks") were extremely anti-war and prefer solving problems through negotiations (or through their "assets", Richard may or may not enjoy this way if he could be honest with himself). The "Salarian" (or "frogmen") seemed to enjoy subterfuge and guile, not direct confrontation, they may give the Institution one hell of a time. Though with their name being read as "I see yo", the Institution of Special and Intelligence Operations may not get completely blinded side by the aliens. At least, that was what Richard hoped.

"Two million were only for one side. In total, not using nuclear weapons could lead to the death of approximately four to five millions."

"That… at least I can somewhat understand the mindset of your leaders then… But it is still a major dilemma. Using it would mean the war can be stopped immediately, but not using also means that the planet would be protected in exchange for many lives being sacrificed."

Richard knew that he definitely should not mention that nuclear missiles had been used as a "sure-kill" technique for ship-to-ship combat. The Quarians had been spooked by the sheer usage of nukes in the past already, they might even jump out of the ship with their suits only, just to escape the sense of being near the weapons of mass destructions.

Captain Gidda, seemingly being the sanest (or the calmest) among the Quarian delegation, continued while trying to keep her voice calm:

"From a tactical viewpoint and for the Greater good, I can somewhat understand it. We Quarians have our own records of abandoning a few ships being too old or cripple to maintain… some of our people… also lost their lives in those days."

"I heard some stories about that too… To be fair, it was quite lucky that we met each other. If not for your help, our Migrant Fleet would have a few vessels short already."

The youngest-sounding Captain (also the one who spit out his coffee earlier) told his story in a sorrow tone. Richard held his sigh inside. These Quarians… it seemed that they had seen and suffered much, not in warfare and destruction like humans, but in the form of a wandering and nomadic people. They had nowhere to go or to settle down. He even suspected that was the reason why despite knowing the humans had used nukes in the past, they could still feel sympathy for his own people.

After all, it was the lesser evil. It was brutal and it brought death, but it still sounded merciful compared to a slow and choking death, the very one coming to reap the souls of the Quarians. From the humanitarian viewpoint, Richard could partially understood why High Command wanted him to assist the Quarians in anyway possible, including being honest with them. Too bad for them, their shocks were still inbound.

"And Captain Jenkins, you mention a third world war earlier being ignited with nuclear weapons?"

"Yeah… but this one is complicated…"

"We have time, don't we?"

The Quarians did not interrupt his talk this time, which was good for them, because as he said earlier, it was complicated. The country launching nukes and directly starting World War three was actually pushed to the brink of collapse. In addition with a major presence of foreign military right on their doorsteps, they decided that if they die, they should drag someone to hell with them. The reason for that could be traced down to the embargo existing at the beginning of the 21st century. The restriction originated from the end of the World War Two, or namely, the "Cold War".

The Cold War, to put it lightly, was a stand-off between two ideologies, one stated that "all men should be free" while the other promoted "all men should be equal". Sure, it was over-simplifying one of the most deadly opposition in the history of mankind, but for the sake of easy understanding, he had to repeat the explanation of his secondary school History teacher. The two sides were completely able to wipe out each other as well as all lives on Earth, and the only thing kept them from doing so was their fondness of being alive. However, that did not stop them from adopting a MAD "Mutual Assurance of Destruction" policy.

The policy should end with the breakup of one side. It did, somewhat, but the mentality remained ingrained in every world leaders then. It was something along the line of having insurance to keep any foreign powers from directly causing troubles. It worked for some countries, and most of the others were either too low-key or fail to maintain that. Hence, when the rouge nation-state decided to have someone accompany them to hell, Hell itself broke loose. The only saving grace was that the interceptor systems function incredibly well, enough to maintain a clear hierarchy of command and limit the casualty to the lowest possible.

Still, it was not enough to stop the war from breaking out. And for humanity, war was ugly business, not because they were terrible at that, but because it was something they exceled at. Every form of warfare, every strategies, doctrines, tactics were used to the deadliest extent. The death count of World War Three was believed to be equal to all previous wars combined. Every human would feel sorrow and lost while describing it, even though the War had already been over for more than a century.

"You may find this difficult to understand, but for us, the memory of the war is so vivid… that sincerely hope to become friends with you."

"… Is that because you people are too tired of bloodshed?"

"Well, it is more like we are disgusted with it."

The room quickly turned into silence, each side following their own lines of though. Richard hoped that his, no, the honesty of the humanity would raise some goodwill from the Quarian. Sure, the history painted them as some bloodthirsters or warmongers, but that was quite distant in the past. In addition, humans had been trying their best to show their sincerity to be a friendly face of a new age. Well, that was just hope though. Richard was absolutely terrified with the idea of a new period of bloodshed and destruction.

But between that and the Federation, Richard knew that he would brave hell itself to keep his Country, his family and his loved ones safe. After all, Task force Insurance, of which he was a member, was formed for that very reason. Human hated war, not because they were terrible at that, but because it was something they exceled at. And if a human diplomat was begging for peace, their army and ships had arrived at the border already.

As a Navy Commodore, he had already taken the Oath of Service. None could get pass the Shield of the Federation, no matter what.

* * *

 **Location:**  
Commercial district  
Capital city Zhen Zhu ("Pearl")  
Planet Shanxi  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental

 **Time:**  
17:25 – Terran Standard time  
19 January 2201

The humans were true to their words. Captain Richard'Jenkins vas Berlin had promised them a full visit onto the local colony of the human without any restrictions. May be not exactly "without", Maale'Gidda vas Leelazi and her friends were still forbidden to wander into any military compounds on the planet. In addition, they would have a small squad of "ODST" acting as their bodyguards. To be fair, it was still within their definition of wonderful. In addition, Captain Zare'Rozu vas Iktomi had already volunteered to be their "friendly" guide. He was the first to make contact with the humans, and in some manner, he was the best expert on humans among the Quarian.

Maale had thought the human as somewhat quirky before, may be a bit on the insane side, but with her visit, she wondered if the humans were actually "batshit" insane, albeit in a good way. Her group was told about the sheer diversity in the culture of these aliens, but actually experiencing it was a completely different story.

Sure, she had the translation matrix online, but she was still able to catch a glimpse of the native tongue, or rather, tongues – plural form. With just four conversations and two more while she was eavesdropping, she had already heard six different languages. To think there was less than fifty meters in total! At least it could explain how the humans… and their AIs (she was still puzzled about it) were able to finish the translation matrix in record time. After all, they had enough experience doing so within their own people already.

Keelah! There were even some independent efforts from the humans to speak Kheelish. Most notably among them was Zhao'Mi nas (?) Shanxi, the Secretary of the Governor of this planet. She described her effort as a "challenge for herself" and a gesture of goodwill, something about closing the gap while speaking the same language. Sure, the female human was still butchering the intonations, but considering that it had not been even a month since the two people had met, her effort was highly admirable.

She took another glance at her pamphlet. Apparently, this planet here was designated as a "heaven planet", focusing on tourism and agriculture, which sound quite strange. Even the Asari, bitches as they were, did not even use a planet fully for the sake of entertainment or tourism. Sure, Illium would come close, but it was still a trade planet rather than a relax hub, and not all entertainment form on the planet was exactly… legal.

Walking in front of her was Captain Zare'Rozu of the scout frigate Iktomi. The man was something of a legend among the Quarian's Patrol Fleet. During his Pilgrimage, he had, somehow, been able to outsmart a full Turian patrol squadron with no less than five frigates led by a cruiser, blow up five slave ships from a Batarian pirate fleet because his sleep was deprived, and he even had sex with three Asari, two Maidens and one Matron, at the same time. Granted, the last part was a stretch, he himself only confirmed the presence of one Asari at Maiden stage (and both of them was insanely drunk then), but from what he had done previously, a lone Asari seemed a bit... anti-climactic. Therefore, it was an unsaid rule for his crew to exaggerate his achievements, even at his own expense.

And now, the incredible Captain of the Heavy Scout Flotilla did not look like what he should be, not at all. He was too busy munching some sweets freshly made by a local bakery, and those sweets were dextro-based, no less! Sure, they had to be minced up to be sucked into their suit via the induction port, sure, he had to "book" it in advance for a few days, but even then… the taste was wonderful! Maale could not even remember the last time she had something like this.

Sure, she had the biggest share among the group of Senior Captains, but it was because Zare had to show proper respect to his superior officer (her), and not because she was enjoying the food! The idea that her, the Commander of the Heavy Scout Flotilla, could be bribed with sweet was just too ridiculous! She was a dedicated and talented Captain, such underhand tactics and treats were beneath her.

Of course, that did not stop her from hogging the snacks dubbed as "chicken bone candy" and leave the group wandering around the Open Market as they asked. A good commander should know when and how to let her men relax and have fun after all.

She got an uneasy feeling in her gut, though. Her intuition, sharpened by years of commanding a converted dreadnought of Civilian Fleet, told her that these humans were either deliberately leaving things unsaid, outright frightened, or both. Sure, they were honest and up front about that, telling her that they would withhold certain information to protect their sovereign. Compared to that, the Quarians simply kept silent about many matters, the composition of the Citadel Council for example. She had a strange feeling that the humans knew what they did, and knew they knew the humans knew.

After all, despite the friendliness, both sides had yet to trust the other completely. The Quarians had a tough history of being discriminated and being used as pawns and scapegoats, the humans' history was practically the teaching material for warfare and deception. The only way to counter the problem for each side was carefulness, borderline paranoia. She remembered the first time setting foot on their planet, she was checked and scanned five times, just to confirm that she carried no harmful diseases, and it was just for the medical side of the problem. However, the humans were reasonable in that, they explained it and gave her a choice: if she did not want to be checked, she could remain on her ship.

However, staying on a ship and doing nothing for a continuous period of time was not a good choice for many people. Almost every Quarian had decided to visit the colony in shift, allowing everyone to have a chance to see the human's works while still keeping their vessels safe and operational. Of course, for officers like her, there were certain privileges. For example, she would be allowed to stay overnight at a "five-star" hotel, free of charge, or Senior Captain Zozu of the Civilian Fleet could buy various household items at discount price.

Diplomatic benefits were the term used by the humans to describe it. It sounded… terribly strange and "alien" to her and to her fellow Quarians, but it was a good strangeness. It had been too long since the last time her people could enjoy it. Sure, the human deployed Artificial Intelligences, which was a major taboo in her people's minds. However, they were honest and upfront with that (borderline brutal honesty), and they were friendly afterwards. In addition to that, they kept their words, no AI was allowed to approach her group without pre-made accept.

To be fair, things had already gone past her wildest dream and expectation. After a long time of make-do with what available, she and her people finally had a chance to let loose and enjoy lives to the fullest. To further support her, her escort groups lent her a few of their "classical" movie, the disturbing part (which seemed to be guaranteed when dealing with the humans) was that they all depicted what could possible go (horribly) wrong while dealing with extraterrestrial life forms. Even though they did not spoil any of the content, the titles of the movies were more than enough to make her unsettled. The list contained a few items like "Battlestar Galactica", "Babylon 5", "Attraction", "Starship Troopers"…, all of them showed images of war and bloodshed right on their covers.

Well, she could not go back down, couldn't she?

Slowly, the group moved to the cuisine section of the Open Market. The sky had slowly turned to a dark shade of blue, making Maale thought that her group had spent too much time on the household applicant section. But it seemed to be precisely what the humans had hoped for. The leader of the escort details, a "corporal" called Yuri'Silva, had already said that this would be the "crowning star" of the day.

Glancing at the signboard, she read the phrase of "Restaurant street". However, by the look of it, "food cart" would be a better word to describe what Xanda was seeing now. Despite being in their "23rd century", many "ancient artifacts" still remained. For example, wooden food carts. Granted, some of her escorts said that they only looked like wood, but they were made from something like metal originally. However, everything else was "traditional" and "ancient", up to and including the receipt and the clothes of the chefs. In her sight, food carts after food carts laid down on both sides of the street, selling various kinds of food. One was selling soup with some kind of yellow strings, while the one next to it had some sort of white thingy. The one on her right was selling some kind of bread filled with food inside. Looking at this scene only caused her stomach to grumble when it should not. Moreover, despite having at least two air filters in the suit, Maale still vaguely smelled something... nice here. Probably, or she was having nostalgia of her childhood.

"Ah, the street food. An icon of every HO and PAC colony. Anyone want to eat? My treat," her body guard asked his troopers around and received more grumbles as answer.

"Men and their food," Maale muttered, knowing that her colleagues (all of them being male) and her badass subordinate would pay it no attention.

Next to her, Zare looked... intrigued, if his body language was any sign. It was more of a surprise that they had been told some rumours that some food carts were selling dextro-food, courtesy of the Terran Federation. It was a pity that the troopers did not know about the taste, or how the chefs were able to make them. They started to joke about it, probably that someone wanted to try the new ingredients given by the government and the chance to sell their food to the aliens. It did not take long to convince her and Captain Zare'Rozu to follow them. As luck would have it, the food cart they were going to was the most famous and best tasting cart on the street. It was so famous that the owner actually had to set up tables and chairs outdoors to keep up with the demand of the customers. Moreover, a significant portion of the current customers were both Quarians and their escorts, and crew of the human's space station.

Before she realised it, her group had already sat down and started to order in rapid fashion. She recognised that the language was not English like before, but another. Her translator identified it as "Cantonese" (whatever that meant) and quickly ran the program. It turned out that the rumours were true, and the chefs here were able to make some "dumplings" based on dextro-based materials. However, they were not able to test it, in fear of allergic reaction or poisoning. Hence, they decided to keep it for the Quarians and waited for their comments.

The dish, called dumplings, was put in front of Maale and Zare by a chubby elderly chef dressed in a white short-sleeved T-shirt and a white apron. His eyes seemed... fairly small compared to other humans she had met, but she would chalk it as some quirky appearance of specific individuals. Looking down at the dish again, her food appeared with a white-ish/yellow cover, but with more white. Her bodyguard described the colour as "ivory", though the word was not translated properly, probably due to the context. She would have to ask someone about that later.

It was a pity that she could not take off her mask and start eating normally due to safety reasons. So, the only way for her to do this was to grind and/or smash the food into smaller bits and then sucked them via the induction port. While it was an available option, she was still hesitant. After all, it was an unknown. What if she got poisoned? What if the humans accidentally created an allergic reaction? What if she did something wrong which could be interpreted as an insult to the chef?

It was the fear of the unknown. What if she unknowingly did something seriously wrong that could be interpreted as an insult? Most of the humans here were a part of military. She did not want to botch this one and bring more disgrace and shame to her people. There was a risk in doing, like making contact with humans and knowing them having AIs in their employment, but there was also a reward, the humans extending their helping hands was a prime example of that.

Her subordinate Captain, the very and only one called Zare'Rozu vas Iktomi, just grunted in his seat:

"Ah, bosh'tet. Mr. Chef, I'd like to apologise, in advance, if I accidentally do something that may make you feel unpleasant. I sincerely hope you don't mind."

"Hmm? Like what?" - The chef raised his pair of eyebrows upward.

"Well... I can't exactly take my mask off... If I do so, I'll..."

"Catch some unknown diseases? Get some germs in your system? Leading to either a very sick Captain or a dead one?"

Zare seemed baffled after that. He asked with a slightly raised tone in the voice. It was just slightly, only recognisable between Quarians, but sill a raised voice. It was either due to fear or surprise, or worse, both.

"How... How do you know?"

"I didn't. I just guessed. I'd probably do the same if I were you, don't worry. Speaking of which, how do you plan to eat the food?"

"Oh... Well, I plan to... mince it, or cut it into smaller part, and then use the induction port to get it into my suit. Via the mechanics that I won't explain, the solid food is turned into a treated and edible material. I hope you don't mind if I do that."

"Don't worry Captain. You're my customer, and it is my task to serve you to the best of my ability."

Her Captain seemed to relax after that, stress and tension were quickly lifted off his shoulders. Those were just minute, detailed gestures, but knowing him for long enough had helped her to recognize his emotion. Of course, it did not mean she was interested romantically in him! She was just a good commander who paid attention to her subordinates! That was all! It was not like she was jealous knowing he had slept with a few Asarian girls for fun! Seriously!

Sitting in front of her, Zare quickly used the "chopsticks" and the spoons to mash the "dumplings" into a mesh so that he could suck it in. Though by the look of it, he preferred using the spoons, the three-fingered hands of the Quarians made them unable to use the sticks as well as the humans. Kee'lah, even some humans she had seen still had trouble using them, let alone the aliens like her and Zare. She noticed that something was coming out of the dumplings being crushed. It was something green, and something else in brown-ish colour. What were they actually?

"Have anyone of you explained the food to them?"

"No gramp. We are just some bad-mannered and plain soldiers. We don't know much about food, or culture in general. Can you teach us oh Enlighted one?"

Some chuckles were heard after her bodyguard finished his answer. Somehow these humans also believed that old age equalled wisdom and intelligence. Though sometimes, they could use it as a joke to tease the old geezer in question. Still, it was the same on some Quarian ships. The chef just sighed and shook his head while muttering something about youth and neglect. It was fitting for many cultures, really. Taking a deep breath, he explained while still keeping watch on Zare. Unknown to him, many of the other customers had already turned silent, ready to listen to his story. After all, he was an old man, and he would have a lot to tell.

"Alright younglings. Let me explain this. A long, long time ago, try a thousand years, at least, our ancestors, in a part of our home world at least, used silver ingots for trading. Those ingots were made in boat-shape, oval and turned up at both ends. As a... consequence, these dumplings are modelled after that shape. My great-grandmother, may her spirit rest in peace, told me that these dumplings were made with hope of prosperity and wealth. The more dumplings you ate during the Lunar New Year Festival, coming in a week by the way, the more silver you would have in the new year. Normally, I wouldn't be selling them now. But it wouldn't be... prudent to not show our lovely Quarians here our best food, custom-made to their biology."

"You… these dumplings are made with dextro-based proteins?"

"Sure. It is vat-grown food after all. Re-configuring the raw materials is quite a process, but once you 've done it, the only thing left cook them, which I'm excel at."

By now, Zare was finally done with the crushing of his food. Gestures were made by the surrounding humans to be silent, either by making hushing sounds or putting a finger to their lips. It was just in time to see Captain Rozu bended down and sucked the food inside via the induction port. She heard someone commenting something like straw. _Hey, it was not a straw! It was an induction port!_

The crushed pieces of dumpling were sucked into Zare's suit, and then he sat still, not moving a single muscle. That quickly drew a lot of attention. The bodyguards quickly became worried while the chef's eyebrows almost make a straight line. They were afraid, Maale realised. They were facing an unknown, and risking having a dead Quarian. Clearly, they valued the newly found friendship with the Quarians far more than they realised.

She felt something swirling in her mind...

A voice came out of Zare's suit, broken by unstable emotion. That was the reason she deducted from the Captain. To be fair, no one could blame him. After over 300 years, he was the first one to not eat from a nutrient paste tube and to have food, real food. On top of that, an alien dish served by an alien chef on an alien colony after first contact with virtually no discrimination or hatred. Emotional instability would not be the proper was to describe it. It was a blessing. A wonderful blessing of... she was at a loss for words...

"It's... it's... won... wonderful... It tastes... I don't... don't... know... rich? Yes, rich. It... It was wonderful... Thank you, chef. Thank you."

So... it was that good? Maale stared at her dish, dumbfounded. She decided to try it herself. When the food arrived on her tongue... she was at a loss for words. Zare was right. She did not know how to describe the feeling and the taste here. It was just... wonderful. The sensation hit her fast and hard, the taste buds on her tongue were put under a harsh assault, and they were quickly overwhelmed. It had been… too long, it had been too long since the last time she actually tasted something.

No, she had not tasted anything in her life. Everything she had was just nutrient paste provided, made by the Migrant Fleet, or bought from the market at a… ridiculously expensive price. Even then, those "food" tasted absolutely terrible, like _Kheelah_ and _Geth_ when compared to the "dumplings" she was enjoying. With a shaking hand, she slowly mashed the remaining dumplings and finished them. The sensation, even though she knew it was coming, was still able to totally overwhelming her.

Through the internal radio net of the Quarian delegation, she was able to hear the sobbing of the young Senior Captain Zozu. He was the youngest in the delegation, hence, he was not able to restrain his emotion like everyone else. But even then, the elder Captains still have troubles in restraining their feelings. No one could fault them. This was a total alien concept to them.

"Are… are you alright?"

The old chef asked with concerns in his voice, and the human escorts were glancing at each other, not knowing of what to do. It looked like the sobbing of Zozu was a bit loud, or he simply forgetting to turn off his internal microphone.

"I'm… I'm fine. It is just… this is the first time I actually taste something in my food."

The whole street vendor was stunned with that. Every single human was busy glancing at each other, unsure of how to proceed. While the civilians were not informed of the whole story, the escort group knew it well enough. The main reason why the Quarians had been unable to have "food with taste" was due to the fact they had to live in a fleet, which was caused by an Artificial Intelligence Rebellion, and in the same time, AIs had been used and utilized by mankind.

Such was a crux, a dilemma.

The old chef silently approached them. Then, he put his hand over Zozu's shoulder and tapped it slightly. No one said anything, the only sound coming from the table was just the sobbing of the young Quarian. Even though the topic would be a "sore" spot between the two people, what the old human had down was… perfect. She suddenly had a feeling that not saying anything would be better.

Then, suddenly, behind her, a young voice began to… sing. Sure, it was in Cantonese, and her matrix translator needed a few seconds to catch up. When it did, she was instantly hit by the lyrics. It was… beautiful. The realization came to her quickly enough. Sure, human had a bloody history, but they was still able to get over their own bloodthirst and strive for greatness, the reason of which was simple. They never lost hope.

 _When you wake up in the morning_  
 _When you haven't started to think_  
 _There is a whole brand new day_  
 _Open wide and waiting for you_  
 _I know in life's sorrow,_  
 _you're on the verge of drowning_  
 _May your tears flee with yesterday_  
 _blow away with the wind_

Slowly and surely, other humans started joining in, singing with their native tongues. The chorus of the humans… Maale had no word to describe it. It was just… beautiful. Sure, their voice was rough, there was no music to accompany them and sure, there was no "special effect", but even then, she still considered the scene in front of her eyes was the best performance she had ever watched.

Because, for the first time in history, aliens had been able to sympathy with her own people despite stark contrast between the two.

 _When you wake up in the morning_  
 _When you haven't started to think_  
 _The world is out there calling open_  
 _eyes to new beginning_  
 _A newborn sun is shinning_  
 _Chasing shadows from your mind_  
 _Everything will be alive,_  
 _under the sunshine's smile_

 _Come out from your corner_  
 _No doubt to join us_  
 _You can decide the future_  
 _Devote your youthful power to this world_  
 _Come together, hand in hand together_  
 _I know you'll do_  
 _We pray and believe_  
 _that tomorrow will be better._

 _No, I don't know what your name is_  
 _But you're so familiar to me_  
 _Cause we belong to one family_  
 _You can hear my heart calling_  
 _Life can be music,_  
 _rainbows can be reached_  
 _If you face yourself truly_  
 _keep striving for your dream_

 _Come out from your corner_  
 _No doubt to join us_  
 _You can decide the future_  
 _Devote your youthful power to this world_  
 _Come together, hand in hand together_  
 _I know you'll do_  
 _We pray and believe_  
 _that tomorrow will be better._

* * *

The song used is "Tomorrow will be better", sung by Taiwanese/Chinese actors/actresses/singers on the melody of "We are the World". The above lyrics is the English translation (also "sungable"), translated by ATT9. I suggest you guys to try listening to it on Youtube. It is a good song


	6. Chapter 5

Repose to review - Thank you for your major support for my story

 **Olav152** : You are right on the number of fanfiction potraying humans and Quarians as BFFs (Best friends forever, for the readers who are not well-versed in acronym) despite the usage of AIs on the human's sides. Some fics attempt to solve it by throwing the Quarians against Turians and the Humans join in on the Quarian's side (with their AIs). Though they fail to portray the suspicion and reluctant of Quarians to change their points of view - I'm trying to do so in this fic. Regarding Mordin's cameo... well, I think it would be about 15+ chapters (at least) before someone closed to him can show up.  
But fear not, I never go back on my word

 **cedric kalu** : Thanks for your interest. I throw the previous "filler" chapter up to paint the 23rd-century human clearer. Giving the Quarians contrast information so that they (and the readers) can draw their own conclusion. Besides, it would mean that the Admiralty Board of the Migrant Fleet have more information so that they can reach a decision faster

 **Watcher123** : Well, your review practically spell out the way I'm planning to paint the Quarians, or at least, a portion of them. Sure, the aliens see us as some bloodthirsty warmongers, but in the same time, they have no choice but to acknowledge our drive for knowledge and our ability to control our very own thirst for war. In addition, the elder Quarians would say that "being friends" with the Humans might be beneficial - granted, we have AIs, sure, we are negotiating from a point of strength, but we would still extending the helping arm, and it is already much more than what the "united galaxy community" has done in 300 years. Only a blind would not see that, and only a fool would still place faith in the Citadel

* * *

"I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve."  
\- Largely attributed to Yamamoto Isoroku (1884 - 1943), Fleet Admiral and Commander-in-Chief of [former] Imperial Japanese Navy, despite no evidence of him saying/writing so

* * *

 **Location** :  
Outpost Omega-Hotel 29  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental  
Terran Federation

 **Time** :  
07:36 - Terran Standard time  
14 February 2201

The official talk between the Quarians and the Humans began quite soon after the Coffee Incident. Sure, it quickly became a running gag between the respective people, but with no harm done, none of the people involved was punished. Of course, the engineers had a different opinion – they were dragged into a new myriad of work. But from hindsight, it was not so bad for them, their salary just tripled in a few days, and for the female Quarian engineers called Naalas, she had a real stable saving for the first time in her life.

Captain Lee Xijang mused with his coffee in the hand. The drink was godly for both people, though for slightly different reasons. The drink itself could "revitalize" both species, but on the Quarians, the effect was more pronounced and much faster, and the less talk about the sugar component, the better. Captain Zare Rozu had tried it once, and Xijang had to replace half of his office's furniture and called in the reinforcement to keep his counterpart stay tied in the chair, which was actually more literally than not. The whole progress, the new found friendship between the two people… it began with a coffee overdosed case.

Granted, the visit on the local colony and the frankness of the Federation played quite a major role, but it was not until a shared facepalm that both sides could sit down and begin the real work in building a relationship. Some problems were still lingering, the fondness of humans on "nukes" and their usage of Artificial Intelligences, or the Quarian stand on a nomad life as well as distrust on aliens, but in the end, those details were just… minute details. The brass of each side had been able to draft a friendship agreement already. It was just a simple piece of paper, a glorified and written form of "don't shoot us and we won't shoot you", but for the spooked humans, it was a wonderful outcome.

And then, Commodore Richard Jenkins and Senior Captain Maale Gidda had to play the sane and responsible subordinates to their respective commanding officers. They proposed a cooperation project between the two people, the Terran Federation would repair and fix the aging ships of the Migrant Fleet (in mass number) in return for technical expertise (and more intelligence) on the "Mass effect" (and the Citadel Council). It was three weeks ago… and it was three hectic weeks to live. It was busy, it was stressing (and chaotic, both the controlled and the uncontrolled ones) but it was worth-while. It was hard to describe but it was fulfilling somehow.

Xijang leaned back in his (fake) leather cladded chair, enjoying the softness and the resting angle of his seat while watching the outcome of his work through a screen on his desk. A new, fresh, gigantic dry dock in the shape of a thoracic cage (a system of ribs and sternum on human's body) had been assembled at Lagrangian point 4, or L4, of the system. The dock, the class of which aptly named "Builder", was capable of mass tendering to multiple ships (even at heavy tonnage) in the same time. According to specification, it could take care of nine heavy cruisers in the same time, thanks to nine of its "fins" being extended out- and in-ward. While not the most sophisticated space dock of the Terran Federation, it boasted the highest ease to disassemble and construction, as well as being moved from one end of the Federation to another at the highest cost-efficiency.

It was a testament to the will and ingenuity of the human race. If they really wanted to make friends with a nomadic alien race, they would give their new contact the dearest: better ships, while showing their fists, of course.

And holy cow, it worked. A flood of Quarian ships poured through the Mass Relay, designated as 314 in its system, waiting patiently for their turn to be fixed. Such was a heavy job, both for the military to coordinate the flow and for the engineers to work. His Outpost, the middle ground between the Relay and the dock, was selected as the zone for the Quarian crews to get off their ships and visit Shanxi, or for the human engineers to pick up their tools. Bureaucracy was a real hellish nightmare, even with the help of his highly competent second-in-command Cho Minhu and the AI Serina.

The engineer corp had to face a worse problem. They were talented, but even then, they still need the experience to become sufficient for the job. And to gain experience, they needed the experienced to mentor them. That was why he sent his Mech crew to the space dock, they had the highest number of Quarian ships being fixed so far, and because they were requesting more coffee for their Quarian colleagues. Considering the whole situation, those nine were the only ones knew how to both pilot a Mech and fix Quarian ships, or do both of that in the same time.

As it turned out, those young engineers were entirely up to task, splitting themselves up to co-ordinate operations on nine different ships in the same time. Even though they gave a message of "leaving the engineers behind" and "getting the fuck off", no Quarian Captains felt insulted, especially when the humans left behind some nice little gifts and quirks – better chair for the Captain, attached deodorant inside the bridge… Those were just small details, but they added extra "value" to the work (something about the needs and wants from the customer – Xijang was not entirely sure), which made the concerned Quarians happy.

And if the file and rank Quarians were happy, their bosses would be pleased too, and if so, his boss would also be glad and he would be fine.

His work station reported a new message from… ah, the Quarian Captain Zare Rozu. Or rather, Zare Rozu vas Iktomi if Xijang wanted to be culturally correct. The scout frigate volunteered itself with a patrol in the system, along with the garrisoned Destroyer division of the Terran Federation. While it sounded… problematic to maintain the security integrity of the Navy information system, the ISIO had already said "I see you" to that problem (which sounded like a terrible joke), giving out the solution. It was just extra firewalls and counter-trojan programs, along with a built-in translation matrix and compatible communication protocol. Most of which was done by a nerd girl while hooked up on sugar and coffee – or that was what Xijang was told.

Though he had no idea which one was more disturbing, the part where a fail-safe was to flood the Quarian frigate (and all other alien ships in the system) with enough virus to cripple a super-computer, or the part the ISIO agent referred to a specific "nerd girl" while purring and grinning like an idiot.

Crazy, the lot of them was all crazy. Though to be fair, they were all human, craziness and insanity were always guaranteed.

Back to the new message on his machine, it was compiled by Commander Tamechi Hara, commander of the 27th Destroyer Squadron attached to his Outpost. To bolster the image of the Federation, the Commander was using all four of his ships in this joint operation: Shigure, Shiratsuyu, Ariake and Yuugure. While those four were "destroyers" in the roster of the humanity, the Quarian considered them as "light cruiser", as in ships that were "a bit short for cruiser, but too long to be a frigate". Sending destroyers for border patrol was normal for the humans, sending cruisers out was a bit of an overkill, but still acceptable, but the Quarians thought the opposite. Well, as least they still understood the epitome of "When in Rome, do as Roman".

The message was a bit long and tedious, reporting everything, from the orientation, the speed of each ship to the activities within the bridge. Xijang knew that a "standard" report like this could be as long as a few pages long, minimum, and this is just a regular report within a single day, and there were about three to five reports each day, and each patrol could last for a week. Combining them together and getting something "useful" out would be quite a chore, at least for an average Joe. For Xijang, he had enough time and training (as well as help from the AI) to sort out the "important" result. In this case, it could be summed up as "nothing abnormal so far".

A normal, uniformed citizen would scoff at that kind of report. After all, why would a report need to be filed when nothing happened? Xijang knew better than that, there was no such thing called "nothing", there was always "something" to report about, the ship's status, the crew's actions, the conditions of the current machinery – not to mention the sudden drills to be made if the Captain was "in the mood". The "nothing" in the civilian's mind was just "absence of hostile force" in the book of the Navy, and the fleet always maintained their vigilance, for they were the shield of the Federation.

Xijang turned his sight toward a schematic drawing, showing the intended flight path of the patrol. They were about to reach the area of the Mass Relay. The path would put them between the artifact and other Terran infrastructures inside the system, including his Outpost and the drydock. The Admirals approved that route, something about showing everyone the co-operation between the two people, politics, it seemed.

And then, Mass Relay 314 shined brightly, report about incoming ships started pouring in, and dread quickly rose within Xijang. There was no new Quarian ship scheduled to arrive at this moment. The ones activate the Relay, whoever they were, were uninvited guests, which rarely meant a good thing. The report had yet to be finished, but he knew, shit had finally hit the fan.

He just hoped that the Insurance coverage was sufficient for this accident.

* * *

 **Location:**  
6th Patrol Lance  
14th Patrol Group (3rd Patrol Fleet )  
Patrolling unnamed system on the border of Turian Hierarchy

 **Time:**  
2501 GS - 7th Month - 30th Day  
15:08

Turian Captain Marcen Furion was a decent Captain of the Turian Navy. He was not a brilliant tactician or strategist per se, but his score fell within the upper-average range of the graduates from the Academy. He lacked some political favors with the higher-ups, but it was not a major issue with the crew, if not a welcomed one. After all, it was more than made up with his easy-going nature with his peers and subordinates.

But, in the end, he was still a Turian, and he had his duty to uphold, and it would be damming him to the Spirits if he let "mundane issues" interfering with his job. For the last three months, he had the job of patrolling a sector on the fledging border of the Turian Hierarchy. The other side of the border, now that was an interesting subject. Officially, the other was "no one", a yet-to-explored part of the galaxy, blocked by a dormant Relay, numbered 313. However, some Navy officers (who had too much free time one their claws) proposed the idea that they could be on the Batarian's doorstep going through that, some other (the cynical elders) believed that some smugglers, pirates and suit rats would use the Relay to reach their staging ground.

Marcen kept his mind neutral. As far as the books went, the Relay was still dormant and his job was to verify it (as well as making sure no questionable figures were wandering nearby), if it was not, his job was to apprehend the ones responsible for the crime.

Technically, he should be here two and a half months ago, which was his original patrol route. However, his XO (and the bridge crew) was able to… convince him changing the plan. There were a few reasons for that. One, the Relay had been checked by their very own ship five times in the past patrols, nothing new was found then, so there was a little chance that they found something this time. Two, a few pirate and raider ships had been spotted in other systems on their patrol route, there had been no contact so far, but clearly, armed hostiles were a much more dangerous threat than a dormant Relay. And last but not least, they would meet up with 7th Patrol Group on the way, and those guys had a new batch of drink on their ships.

And it was not like that last reason was the one that tip Marcel to his decision – He thought so while musing his own drink. Sure, diverting the patrol route was not exactly "by the book", but it was still advised by the instructors (not recommended though) to throw off enemy's intelligence. However, to save fuel and time, most captains of the Patrol Fleet (all of whom were Turians) rarely, if ever, did that. Still, there were still exceptions, especially during peace time, at peaceful areas and the intention to cheer up the crew from the Captain.

However, once the Group moved into the unnamed system containing Relay 313, the situation… well, it was not py'jack yet, but it would be, probably, by the end of the watch. Marcen knew that he should have stick to the plan, at least he could have stop the problem, or rather, problems, before it was made.

The first thing was that the Relay had been activated already, which was a direct and blatant violation of Citadel Laws. The second thing was that they picked up fresh trail of space vessels in the system, suggesting the recent time of the incident. The third thing was proofs showing that both sides of the Relay were becoming a new staging ground (for something), which further murk up the situations.

He should do something about this, after all, this was his job, his duty, not just as a Turian, but the leader of a Turian Patrol Group. Taking a deep breath, Marcen unconsciously touched his mandibles in an effort to calm down. Even with his training, it still took a few precious seconds. Then, before he even rang up his Communication officer, the man had already yelled out:

"Sir! Signal is coming from all ships of the wolfpack! The Captains are requesting your order."

So, it was the time, eh?

"On screen."

The faces of four other captains quickly appeared on the main screen, each of them was a subordinate of Marcen himself. With the position as the commander of this formation, he was given the command of a cruiser as the flagship while the others had frigates. Together, they formed the 6th Patrol Lance of the 14th Patrol Group. Over the years, they had grown from colleagues to being friends and comrades, the relationship was further enhanced with occasional diverted patrol routes, but it did not mean that their combat efficiency was reduced.

"Captains, this is Marcen Furion of _HWS Enforcer_ , I believe that we are all seeing the same data?"

"This is Captain Matius of the _HWS_ _Lightning on Sekarus_ , If you say so… Commander, can you give us a gist of the situation, just to make sure we are on the same pace? Over."

"Marcen here, solid copy, Captain, let me gist it up. One, the Relay 313 should be dormant, but it is active now, someone has activated it, the time should be within the last three months since the last patrol here. Two, it is freshly used, supposedly for some staging grounds of sort. Any thoughts captains? Over."

"Rogidus, I believe that some smugglers just opened this Relay to transport their stolen goods, or the items that slip through the bureaucracy of the Citadel."

"Or it can be the four-eyed slaver varen py'jack."

"Or the suit-rats."

"Oh, Spirits, the suit-rats."

All five Captains spent a brief moment of silence, praying to the Spirits. Those… vermin should have learnt to become better citizens of the galactic community. Marcen had nothing personal against them when he was young, but when a py'jack suit-rat captain dared to humiliate his brother and ensnared his… childhood female idol, well, that Quarian had to pay. That being had the name of Kare'Zozu or something like that…

It would be wonderful if that suit-rat was the one activate this Relay, he could take care of both "personal" and "professional" issues in the same time.

"Captains, check up your ships for a final time. We will travel through the Relay in ten minutes. Questions?"

"Doctrine sir?"

"The normal ones of the Patrol Fleet."

"Roger that."

The check-up procedure was simple enough, most of which was done practically every day on board already, and his men could practically do the task with their eyes closed. Not that he actually wanted on board. Giving the order to the Helm, Marcen order the Patrol Lance to approach the Relay while still keeping an eye on the surrounding. His sensors did not picking up any signal did not mean that the system was free of any hostile, and it always paid off to be careful.

Ten minutes passed with tension. The varen pack approached the Mass Relay carefully, they neither moved too slow nor too fast, it was just the "right" speed, born with both practice and history. One cruiser and four frigates were nothing much, but they were more than sufficient to deal with most pirate gangs and smuggler bands, none of those two had enough fate and trust in each other to have more than five ships at any time. And even then, those five ships were at frigate-sized, and under-armed at best. Marcen knew that he could take on any kind of problem on the other side of the Relay, baring a second Rachni race. To be fair, three months were still too short for any race (even for the bugs) to mobilize any meaningful threat for the Citadel.

In the off-chance that they do, Marcen had already required his Lance to over-charge the drive a bit, not enough for two consecutive Relay jumps, but it was enough to reduce the recharging time on the other side significantly.

Then, the moment arrived, the ten-minute mark had ended, he gave the order for this crew:

"Input our data, Helm. May the Spirits guide us."

Grim nods appeared within the bridge. And then light was all around the pack.

Three seconds later, the varen pack had fully transited within the new system. The sight they saw was… unpleasant. Closest to them was a reversed formation compared to theirs, a lone frigate with four other cruisers. Well, light-cruisers. Those ships were a bit short to be proper cruisers like his ship, and the only functional cruisers, as far as he knew, belonged to a few bands of pirates in the Terminus zone, not to mention that only Turian had produced light cruisers in the past… More reason to act here. Those ships were a real threat to most trading lane, but on the bright side, they never packed enough punch to be a credible threat for armed convoys.

The frigate, however, was a sight he knew too well. A stolen Turian frigate named as Iktomi, taken straight from the Turian scrap yard, it was used by that daring py'jack to make a bareface out of his brother. SO, that suit-rat was involved in the issue, which made thing easier to deal with. In addition, the pack was very close to the effective firing range. Full thruster for two minutes (including the time to accelerate) would be sufficient to put them under his gun, two-and-a-half to three, if he really wanted that Quarian dead. Now, that news would be wonderful.

Now, if he could figure out…

"Sir, report! I have found out where we are at the moment. We are on the edge of Krogan DMZ, still within the zone though."

"Good. So these vermin had violated not one but two Council Laws. Good… Open me a channel to all other ships in the Lance."

It was always good to have competent subordinates and bridge officers, and it was better to have them in good mood. It seemed that even though he (kind of) bended the rules a bit to maintain their morale, their working efficiency remained the same. Therefore, Marcen had great belief that he could finish this patrol in his soft comfortable bed back home within a few days. A hand signal from his Communication officer cut off his line of thought. Straining his mandibles, he tried his best to give off the most authority in his voice.

"Sixth Patrol Lance, this is Captain Marcen Furion. We have caught these suit-rat smugglers red-handed within the Krogan DMZ. By the authority vested in me and by the Laws of the Citadel Council, of our Hierarchy, I order you to destroy them! All ships, accelerate at 90% thrusters for seventy seconds. Frigates, neutralize the frigate, the shift fire to the light cruisers, starting from their end. My _Enforcer_ will deal with the leading ship."

A chorus of affirmatives was sounded up from his varen pack. They looked confident in themselves. After all, even though the tonnage was slightly favoring the smugglers, they still had the edge in cohesion, firepower, maneuverability and experience. What could possibly go wrong?

The ship lurched forward, pushing Marcen in his chair slightly before the mass effect field canceled out the inertia. The main gun of the cruiser had been warmed up already, locking down on the lead light cruiser – though it was more likely to be a transport than a combat ship. Around his ship, the four frigates were gunning forward, using their superior velocity and acceleration to close in with the enemy and send them a few disruptor torpedoes.

Thirty seconds had already passed, and the smuggler convoy was slowly approaching the effective firing range. However, Marcen had not given the order to open fire, he wanted to make sure the enemy stay DEAD after the shot. Opening fire just at the edge of the range did not guaranteed a kill, which had been proven continuously by real combat situations as well as theory doctrine. He should wait a while longer, somewhere three-quarters of the effective range, that was within his crew's capabilities, and definitely well outside their combat range.

At fifty second mark, the targets had definitely realized their impending doom. They tried to make a run for it as well as sending some mercy plea over the comm. Too bad for them, they had violated two laws of the Citadel, and the punishment of which was death penalty, effectively and immediately. He had the intention to refuse the request anyway, but his Communication officer had already declined the connection. The other ships were doing the same thing. Marcen would shed these vagrants some pity, assuming they were not suit-rats, or law breakers, or both, in the first place.

The message was sent again, from the lead light cruiser, and again, it was declined. Ninety seconds had passed then, and the situation suddenly became quiet, chilling quiet. There was still noise in the bridge though, but the atmosphere was… different, somehow. It was as if someone was putting a weight on the crew. Some newbies would be freaked out, but Marcen knew better, that was the pressure of duty, of honor and responsibility. That burden was rarely… light, if ever.

The smuggler convoy was clearly showing signs to spread out. Even for their illegal occupation, Marcen must give them credit, even the speed was a bit slow, the teamwork between them was beautiful. It was as if they had been in contact with each other (friendly or not) long enough to know what the other should be doing. That would be problematic, if they were not too slow and un-maneuverable, at the kind of mobility, his Lance could go around them and pound them to shred with little retaliation. A sudden report from the bridge interrupted his consideration though:

"Sir! Report! I find no Eezo on those cruisers!"

"What?"

What in the name of the holy spirits was going on? Element Zero was critical to every application of all space-faring society, ranging from actual inter- and intra-stellar travels to basic entertainment media. With no eezo, the whole society would come crashing down, hard. And his officer told him that there was no such item on the four cruisers of the smuggler's band?

Something terrible was going on. His childhood, easy-to-spooked personality screamed out in his mind. However, the more rational side, the one trained and tempered in the Naval Academy and in the service drew up a theory. It was possible that those suit-rats had violated another law: on top of activating a dormant Relay and smuggling contraband, they had initiated unsanctioned First Contact with another alien race. Probably that was a primitive race, based on the absence of Element Zero, which may lead to a forth crime: unsanctioned uplifting.

Great, a good way to end this patrol. Gritting his jaw, Marcen silently considered his plan, which had no actual change since the last time. Those Quarians were still to be found guilty, and to be destroyed anyway. The only difference between before and now was the number of crimes upon their penalty. The same consensus was also reached (and confirmed) by other captains of the Patrol Lance. Nothing had changed, their job was still the same.

Time passed, almost too slow for Marcen's liking, and the smuggler convoy slowly delved into the firing range of the varen pack despite the vermin's effort. The Enforcer, being the lead cruiser with the longest firing range, opened fire first. Its target was the leading light cruiser, and the moment was two minute mark after the Turian Patrol Lance passed through the Mass Relay. The cruiser shooked when the slug, a 20kg slug of an alloy, was launched forward at 1.3% speed of light. He had no idea how powerful the slug was, but so far, no race had been stupid enough to take a fully-charged Turian cruiser shot without a fully-charged kinetic barrier. For the primitives and the suit-rats? Taking the shot was synonym to suicide.

But considering that they would be either dead or captured by the end of the day, well, it did not matter much to Marcen. After all, they w…

HOLY SPIRITS!

Marcen stared dumbfound at the screen. The (stolen) Turian frigate had just dashed forward, cut into this line of thinking… And the ship just stood, proudly or crazily, in the line of fire from the Enforcer. The metal slug, under Mass Effect, travelling at a fraction of light speed, slammed into the barrier of the small ships. The kinetic shield shined brightly, stressing itself before collapsing. However, its strength was insufficient to block the metal slug travelling at 1.3% of light speed, which led to its own death in the form of a fireball.

Cheer erupted in his bridge, well, not ear-splitting cheers, his officers' discipline was better than that. They just wanted a bit of celebration with a new kill under their ship's name. Marcen wanted the same thing, and he should be cheering too. But for some reasons, he could not.

Something was wrong, and he knew it.

And then, his Communication reported an open communication message from the suit-rats: Keelah se'lai. It was timed right before the ship intervened with his firing solution. Now, Marcen knew, he had messed up somewhere, somehow.

* * *

 **Location** :  
 _Anvil_  
Builder-class Mobile drydock  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental  
Terran Federation

 **Time** :  
07:45 - Terran Standard time  
14 February 2201

"Keelah se'lai?"

Vuong squeezed his eyebrows, listening to the phrase just uttered by Yaenna Naalas, the (only) female engineer on the Iktomi frigate. She gave him and his Mech crew more than just a few migraines, especially with her new addiction to coffee and her own sensitivity to caffeine. Still, she had a brilliant mind as well as a practical viewpoint, which were required to be an engineer within the Terran Federation. Combined with her (questionable) sanity (since when engineers were sane, actually?), she quickly became a friend of the Mech team and a considerable voice on the Quarian side in the current co-operation.

On the screen, the "piny glassed" helmet of the lady covered all of her face, blocking him from watching her face expression. It further made guessing the emotion of the aliens harder, not to mention his own… issue in social interaction, especially with the other gender. Out of the corner of his eyes, a few nearby Quarians suddenly whipped their heads towards him. He was unable to see their eyes, but their quick actions told him that they were surprised too.

"Yaenna, what do you mean? Repeat!"

"… What do you people say? It is an honour knowing you?"

Oh. FUCK.

Something terrible was happening. Still keeping an eye on the main screen, Vuong yelled into a nearby microphone. He knew he was breaking a few protocols here, but most of which were just social politeness towards the aliens rather than actually security measures. That phrase was only uttered by military commanders (or someone of sort) when they knew they were about to die while fighting against insurmountable odds.

"Computer! Over-ride protocol Charlie-Indie-Echo-One-Alpha!"

A voice appeared on the communication line, it was feminine, posh-English accent (whatever it mean nowadays) with an edge of steel inside. Of course, he knew that it was all fabricated, but in the end, it just made the AIs become more "humane" for the humanity.

"Yes, Mr. Tran?"

"Request confirmation on the Iktomi. I be…"

Then, as sudden as the mysterious phrase from Yaenna was given, the signal connected to the Iktomi was lost. Static was the only thing left on the channel, accompanied by a fizzy black and white screen with the letter "Signal Lost" being written in red.

Suddenly, the room became dead quiet. The "rest room" had ten figures in total, himself, three Quarian engineers and six other humans. Normally, the room could never be silent, there was always a sound inside, be it the movie, phone conversations or simply idle chatting. But just two seconds ago, the room just turned dead with the sudden interruption of the chat between him and the Quarian female engineer. The most disturbing part would be a very loud sound on the lady's end, which sounded disturbingly like an explosion.

An explosion happening in space, the signal lost and the proximity with an instant inter-stellar travel device, and in the situation of a First Contact.

Every human in the room knew what it meant. They were briefed for it in secret before going to this Builder-class mobile dry dock, and they were quite well-prepared for it. Dread rose in their gut, for their greatest fear had finally come true – a First Contact War.

"Serina, what is the word from the Command?"

Vuong asked the AI again, just to be sure on the course of action. He had already known what the answer was after seeing the red notification on the screen. The answer, he knew, would be chilly terrifying, the reason of which was human's paranoia, and human's paranoia only.

"Mr. Tran, Insurance Protocol had been issued. Public announcement will be given… now."

As soon as the AI finished her word, red light and warning klaxon flooded the giant construction. A calm feminine voice blazed over the speaker, instructing the Quarians and non-duty Humans to get to the escape pods while requiring the on-duty Humans to activate "Insurance Protocol". Glancing to the side, Vuong realized the grim determination and acceptance in the eyes of other humans in the room, and as he feared, they were also the people on duty.

Their job was very simple: make sure nothing was left for the enemy, whoever they were.

Everyone quickly dashed out of the room, returning to their respective posts, well, working station for the humans, and escape pods and departing docks for the Quarians, but Vuong was not really paying attention to the details at the moment. He was too busy dodging other personnel on the way back to the office while enduring the blazing warning sound. Everyone was frightened, but no one was outright panic, partially because they had been practicing evacuating a few times already, and partially because many humans were quite good at hiding their fears.

Many people passed by each other in haste, just focusing on their destinations. The number of military personnel on the dry dock was actually low, focusing more on the administration than the actual operation. Sure, there were also some security force, but those were more "token force" than actual combat formation. And with a low military presence, there was no one screamed out, requiring for a report. Well, not yet, and definitely not here and not now.

A few minutes, or five, or ten, he was not sure. He was so focus on reaching his post without crashing onto anyone to pay attention to the time. Once he reached the work station, the situation had already turned for worse: there was a confirmation on hostile alien presence. They had already opened fire on the patrol group without accepting the attempt to open communication. In an order to shield the attack… the Iktomi had sacrificed itself.

Something was rolling inside his stomach. The time involved there was too short for democracy practice, in other words, Captain Zare Rozu decided to sacrifice his life and his ship to protect a Terran destroyer. And by the look of it, he announced that decision to his crew, and they just accepted that, no one opposed, no one abandoned one's own post. That… was honour and courage. To sign up for the armed force was easy, but to die and to accept death while serving, that was something else.

Vuong quenched down that line of thought. The Quarians had gone above their call of duty, now, he must complete his task. There was simply no room for error here.

Pushing open the door of his work station, he quickly stormed inside. The fight had yet reached the dry dock, but no one put their luck on that fact for long. There was a war going on, each had their own job to do. The soldiers would stop the enemy from breaching in, and the engineers, well, their job was to make sure that in the off-chance the enemy broke through, they would find nothing of value. Vuong's job in Insurance Protocol was pretty simple: attach the explosives at pre-determined positions, including the Mech suits. Or die trying, though with the context of war in human's mind, that pretty much went without saying.

The other human engineer in the room, an old man at the age of forty-something, already put his grey hard-suit on, threw his bag into this hand. The bag was pretty heavy, about ten kilograms in weight, or about twenty-two pounds for the people in the USNA (Seriously, though, what was their fanatic on Imperial system about?). The old man was… well, old. He had two children already, two daughters, and the elder was just a few ages younger than Vuong. In addition, he also originated from the same colony as Jack, and those two shared the same enthusiasm on guns and firearms.

The two of them nodded briskly, no one said a single word, then the old man walked out of the room, leaving Vuong behind to suit up. Of course, both of them ignored the fact that there were two other Quarian engineers dashing out of room, who were probably clueless and freighted.

Put down the bag on the ground, Vuong approached the bench and quickly put on his black hard-suit which was also his Mech-pilot uniform. Putting it on was quite a chore, but at least, he had done that enough to be able to fasten the process. Normally, the last item he needed was the helmet, which was also integrated with a microphone, a basic HUD and some deodorant (the last one was actually more important than what people gave credit for), but for this operation, he also had an external oxygen tank. Part of the Insurance Protocol, absence of air would put extra chore on the enemy's behalf to taken this dock, especially when the human decided to remove ALL valuables, including air.

Putting the backpack on his body, he grimaced. It looked like humanity could never escape the curse of war. For over one hundred and fifty years of peace, finally, War had come for them again. Again, the young men like him had to complete their duty. After all, it was For the Motherland.

Just… he just wanted to be alive after all of this shit. The explosive behind his back was equivalent to at least fifty kilograms of TNT. They were secured and yet to be connected with a detonator, but dying stupidly while carrying out a job like this was not fun at all.


	7. Chapter 6

**Thank you, my faithful readers, for supporting me, and thank you, my new readers, for reading my story. Your support means much to me.**

 **Reviews Responses**

 **CReaper210 (Chapter 5)** : Thank you for your support. I believe that what separates a "good" and a "normal" story (if not a terrible one) is world building. The more detailed (and consistent, and reasonable) it get, the better the story will become. I just feel... pleasant that my world building really makes someone enjoy my work.

 **Olav152** : Thanks. A mixture between humours, jokes, and blood with grim reality is my "favourite" for writing stories - though it may or may not be linked with my sarcastic and (political) cynical attitude...

 **general-jospeh-dickson** : Thank you for your support.

 **Watcher123** : Thank you for your review. In the previous incarnation of this story, some readers have... voiced their questions (so to speak) on the Turian reactions when seeing the Mass Relay got activated. My failure to make it "real" and "fit" in that situation is one of the reasons why I opt for this re-write. The idea is partial inspired by "The Fourth Council Race" ME Fanfiction by Knight Vigilant Koren. I just added my own ideas on that - A greater cause and a duty are good, but what really tips the balance would be personal reasons ("pay back" for the lost honour of his brother, and his childhool [AV] idol being ensnared). The idea of the Quarian frigate Iktomi sacrificing themselves is inspired by "And the Meek shall inherit the Galaxy" of Full-Paragon. The Federation WILL be in an uproar when the news reached their news outlets, I can guarantee that.  
Regarding the Quarian ships under repair... Well they are just civilian ships, none of which is combat-capable, and even if they are, they are not even crewed and they have been "powered-down" already. The Terran Federation EXPECTED them to be destroyed when they blow up the mobile dry dock - after all, either the Quarians would be friendly and they would "compensate" for that, or the Quarians would be hostile and they would have a few ships killed before the war even erupt.

 **SeregaKR** : Thank you for pointing out my mistake, my intention was to put it at Lagranigian Point 4 (L1 is reserved for the Outpost, and not-L2 because of human's paranoia). I think by the time the new chapter is online, the mistake would have been fixed.

 **Chronus1326** : Thank you for your review. Personally, I have no military experience - I'm a civilian as much as you can get. Sure, I have enthusiasm with the armed foces, but that's about it. I mention the deodorant because I have read how veterans complained about the gas masks, and the toilet in my dorm room has... weak ventilation. So... the submarines are always in the need of deodordant, I guess?

 **OMAC001** : Thank you for your support, just keep looking for the notification emails

 **CReaper210** : Thank you for your response - a double response, for that.

* * *

"I'm sure you've heard old fossils like me talk about Pearl Harbour. Mostly we all lied, make it sound like we leap to our feet and went after the Axis the second it happened. Truth is... we were scared stiff, rumours were flying. We barely had an army, hell, we were hiding in the bed with our head under our sheets. [...]"

\- Commissioner John Gordon, Animated superhero film: Batman: The Dark Knight Returns

* * *

 **Location:**  
 _Anvil_  
Builder-class mobile dry dock  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental  
Terran Federation

 **Time:**  
08:15 - Terran Standard time  
14 February 2201

Centuries into the Modern Age, and probably one hundred and fifty years into the Space Age (give or take), the job of the Engineers had not changed much. They did two opposite jobs, often in the very same time, they built things, and they blew shit up. Sure, the second part was officially designated for the military engineers, so-called combat engineers. However, no one would bat an eye if a civilian engineer took up that mantle right after the presence of a hostile alien presence.

Especially if the sanity of the engineer was already questionable in the first place, and he was drafted into the service following the Code… Something Something. Vuong was pretty sure that there was about ten or so syllabuses after the word "Code", it sounded pretty military, like Code Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot and Hotel-Santa. Something like that. It was too bad that he had no prior military training, or the professional and official one that would allow him to understand the code.

On the other hand, he still understood his job perfectly: he had to rig the entire Mech-suit hangar bay with explosive, leaving nothing for the enemy (whoever they were) but molten and scrap metals. It was a basic form of scorched earth, but in 23rd century, and in space, or by the grace of TvTrope, Up to eleven. The last part was particularly truth, considering how much explosive he was packing on his back. It was enough to evaporate him a few times over… or a dozen, for that matter.

Luckily, Vuong had a reliable training on how to install the explosive devices, which was fairly simple. All he had to do was to stick the electro-magnetic base on the target and flip on the receiver. The Chief Engineer, who actually came from the military, had the detonator within his office, and only when all explosive was confirmed to install that he would break it out and flip the switch. The part where all personnel had already evacuated was pretty much go without saying.

However, inside the enclosed hard suit and watching the whole hangar venting its atmosphere, he suddenly had a bad feeling. If the new aliens had good boarders and the Marines fail to repel them… well, he would pretty much fall in line of duty. There would be nothing left of him to be brought back and buried properly on the soil of his ancestral ground. The line of thought slowed down his movement a bit, but then he accepted it. He finally understood what his great-great-grandfather wrote down in his notebook "Ask not what your Country can do to you, ask what you can do for your Country", "When Fatherland calls, we relpy" and a bold line in red "For the Motherland".

"For the Motherland" indeed. He was practically danced with his life on the line here. Others, including his friends, and even some unknown colleagues… they all volunteered to help the Quarians as a moral duty, and they quickly followed the Insurance Protocol, risking their own life and safety, when news about a hostile alien race reached. The reason was very simple, they did such jobs because such was asked by their Motherland. It was strange, and quite funny when it was spoken in the "normal" situation, but a hostile alien contact was not a normal circumstance after all. Vuong had a strange feeling inside, it was a grim acceptance, just like when he took the offer from the military to be a civilian engineer specialist. There was a risk of death, but he still took it with his friends… And here he was, installing the explosives on the structures despite a clear risk of death and worse.

"This is Dragoon. All Mech-suits in hangar Delta-Four have been rigged with explosive, installing the rest on the control panel."

"This is Ranger. Raw material storage Five is now armed."

"Romanov here. Mech Hanga Five-Alfa has been rigged with explosive. I'm moving for evacuation now."

One by one, the reports sound up on the radio net. No one spoke a single redundant word. There was no need to do so, for they all knew how to cut down and remove the unnecessary items like babbling on the net. It was not like they were not afraid. No, it was the opposite. Vuong was scared, his breathing is rough, and he had to recite more than a dozen poems, songs and mantras to keep himself focus on the work and not going down the gutter of desperation. On the bright side though, the situation was still rated as "controlled chaos", which was pretty much "a normal day" within the PAC sovereignty. Everyone was scared, everyone was spooked, but the working tempo was still as required… For the moment.

Vuong was not so sure what was happening with him. He knew a war was coming right into his face, he knew that he should be scared shitless… Yet, he was still capable of thinking coherently and remaining reasonably calm. Well, almost. He still had a crap ton of explosive around him, and he was wearing a hard suit within a vacuum hangar bay, a slight mishap was enough to evaporate him. A probable answer on why he had not gone bonker was that he was used to the second part, and the first was his duty…

Yeah, he had already started rambling in his mind here. Self-hypnotizing would be an appropriate term here. It sounded a bit troubling, but it was just a variant of self-assurance and self-confidence, both of which were crucial in passing the Engineering course. Some may say that his psyche was something to be worried about – they should be saying the same thing about other engineers. Hmm… yeah. May be, may be it was because of his engineer occupation and education. The university was more than enough to bruise and strengthen their mentality, enough for them to remain impassive in the face of a First Contact War right out of their window.

They were insane, obviously. But who expected them to stay sane after four years in Engineering schools? While the Economics students were partying and Fine arts students were making up stuff while being high, the Gear-heads were focusing on passing their next exams (or doing the homework, or soon-to-be-submitted reports). They sacrificed a part of their youth for study one of the hardest courses known by humanity, they neither had the idea on how they could pass (and fail) any exam, and most of them had to abstain from building a crazy young love during that time. It would be stranger if they were sane by the time of graduation…

Vuong breathed out a relief. Thinking about something else had diverted a part of his conscious thoughts, making him not to keep freaking out on his situation. That was… a good news. Even if his sanity was questionable in the first place, he was in no rush to find court death. Especially if Death was a white skeleton with the voice of Darth Vader reading bedtime stories and not a hot smoking chick like in a recent anime.

"Dragoon to Central. Hangar Delta-Four has rigged completely. Over."

"Copy that Dragoon. Hang on… Confirm. All explosives have been planted, ready to be activated. Move forward to Dock Five, the evacuation ship is bound to move in twenty minutes. Over."

"This is Dragoon. Solid copy. Over."

Vuong quickly stood up and dashed along the hallways. The clanking sound of the magnetic boots was never formed in the first place – thanks to the entire dry dock had been vacuumed. Fire safety and blocking the enemy's advance, something like that probably. Though to be fair, if the new batch of aliens was competent, venting atmosphere would do little to stop their advance. Their marines, or boarders, would come with their hard suits like the Terran marines, which practically level the field in this regards. But it was not his concern, for the moment, all Vuong needed to know was to dash toward his ship.

The Chief Military Engineer would have the control of the detonator. Along with his unit of combat engineer, he would stay and fight along with the marines to protect the dry dock. Best case scenario, the first invasion wave would repelled, buying enough time for the Federation to de-activate the explosives and transport the whole dock back to friendly territory. More likely than not, the dock would be lost by the end of the day, and the Chief would flip the switch, scuttling the dock and leaving nothing to the new aliens.

It sounded terrible. Vuong just hoped that those soldiers had already made their resolve. Courting Death was one job, but directly staring at his/her eyes, gesturing at him/her with middle fingers while saying profanities about his/her mother was a completely different object. But then, the second was somehow synonym to being human. But then, the second was somehow synonym to being human.

Running on the metal hallway of the now-empty dock (which had just turned dark), he glanced to the side, watching the dark space in the general direction of the Mass Relay. He could not see it, but he knew a fierce battle was going on there, two sides were planning to fight until the bitter end. The place was also the grave... the graves of the Iktomi's crews. They had sacrificed themselves to save other humans whom they had just met. That was a debt of honour, and the newcomers, whoever they were, would soon find out how far the human would willing to go just to prove a point, especially with vengeance in their mind.

And was what he just saw a flash of light?

* * *

 **Location:**  
Brdige  
Destroyer Shigure - Flagship of 27th Destroyer Division  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental  
Terran Federation

 **Time:**  
07:46 - Terran Federation time  
14 February 2201

"What the ACTUAL FUCK?"

That was the scream of Commander Hara Tameichi (the "proper" way that his name should be written) inside the bridge of the Shigure destroyer. However, that was a rhetoric question, which required no answer. The actual answer was simple enough: new alien presence appeared through the Mass Relay, all communication attempts were turned down, his patrol group pulled back to make an image of non-aggression, then the new aliens took a shot with their biggest ship. The shot would hit on his very own ship, potentially dealing a severe damage. The only thing saved him and his crew was the sacrifices of the Quarian frigate Iktomi.

Sure, the top brass would call that ship a "corvette", but he was not too nit-picking at the moment. He had more pressing problems at the moments, one of them was to protect this system from the aliens' invasion, and to exact vengeance for his fallen… friends.

He had no idea what was raging inside him. Fear? Dread? Relief? Hate? Anger? He could not describe it with any words other than turmoil. Other men in the bridge were sharing the same mindset, the only thing kept any one from breaking down was the training drilled into them through years of training and operation.

A few seconds had already passed since the explosion of the Eezo ships (the name sounded much better than Element Alpha-equipped ships, really), the fireball had dimmed off and dissipated, leaving nothing but a cloud of debris. Some of those metal chunks were colliding with his ship hull, generating small and weak vibration along the ship. Mechanically, they could be ignored, but psychologically and mentally though… everyone on board just felt a pang of sorrow inside. Those aliens… those Quarians, despite knowing little about the humans, they had sacrificed themselves to save their new friends.

For Tameichi and his crew, that was a debt of honor, a debt which could only be paid partially by killing and capturing all of the new alien murders. The odd, in term of size, was in human's favor. All four of their ships were at 500 meters in length, give or take a bit. Meanwhile, four of the five alien ships were about 200 meters, slightly bigger than the Iktomi, and the last one was about 600 something. The ratio of the width and height to the length was relatively similar between both sides, enough to "hand-wave" it away.

However, size was not everything in space combat. Hell, even for the wet-navy, sizes did not always equal advantage. A full torpedo from a small destroyer, ten to twenty shots in total from a barely 100m-ship, could cripple, if not outright kill, a full battleship at nearly 300m. Sure, not many destroyers had actually done that, but no battleships or even cruisers were crazy enough to wander near a destroyer during a naval battle. World of Warship game matches were not included, obviously.

Size was not an advantage in combat, be it void or wet-navy. Tameichi had been taught that the two most important things were weapons and electronic counter-measure, widely known as ECM. The first was to make sure that the enemy would be killed with sufficient prejudge, and the second was to guarantee that they could hit the enemy and not the other way around. Back in the pre-Space Age, it was already hard enough for each nation to correctly deduce the level of those two systems coming from their… not so friendly states, despite same original root. Now, he had to face a completely new alien race with no comparable ground. The job to compare the two sides was even harder.

Purely by his ingrained training, Tameichi ordered his men into battle station right after sending a report to Captain Lee Xijang of the Outpost Hotel-Omega 29. Red alert lights quickly flooded the whole bridge with klaxon blazing in the background, giving a feeling of urgency. All four ships were ordered to turn around, heading toward the alien formation. Their thrusters were adjusted so that they were arranged into a diamond-shaped formation, dealing with all possible vectors of attack. The thrusters, both at the end and on the sides, were put in maximum output mode, greatly altering the route of the ships. The inertia and the acceleration pushed the officers into their chairs, yet failed to keep them off from doing their duty. Weapons were primed, ECM was pushed to the limit, and sensors of all type were used to the fullest extent, up to and pass the limits thought up by the arm-chair warriors.

In the same time, the whole crew quickly finished putting on their protective wears. Since the beginning of the patrol, all officers on watch had their hard-suits on already. Those were some ugly pieces of fashion, even for some fashionably-deaf men like Tameichi, but he had to admit the practicality. Each suit had their own rings to hook with whatever was needed, a grapple for rescue purpose, a data-pad to free one's hand, that was not to mention some pouches and pockets, each could hold much more than their appearance suggested. The only thing could surpass that was the Swiss Army Hardsuit, which was practically the epitome of "all in one" mentality. Now, with most of their suits already being worn, they only had to put on their helmets, which strangely looked like the ones from early 21st century. Again, their practicality was insanely good. The gimmicks included a basic attached HUD, flashlight, ultra-violet light, camera, video recorder… And those were just the "basic" variant, the one freshly flushed out of a factory manufacturing line. Further customizing was usually encouraged, as long as the upgrades did not negatively affect the operation.

The hissing sound was quickly heard in Tameichi's ears quickly confirmed that the suit was isolating itself from the external environment, effectively sealing him inside. The HUD on the screen of his helmet showed a decreasing meter, representing the amount of air left inside the bridge room. However, the air being sucked out had little, if not none, effect on the great working tempo of his bridge crew.

"Sir! I have the scan report! Those ships are working on the same principle as the Prothean and the Quarians!"

"Report on their weapons sir! Their main gun power is roughly 36 kiloton at full charge. Expect rate of fire: twice per minute, optimum conditions."

"ECM reporting, their jammers are crap, expect severe affect on their ability to lock on us."

Reports kept flooding in. Generally, they were good report, showing his advantages… Most of them, at least. The weapon range was steep into the aliens' favour, mostly thanks to their superior muzzle velocity. It meant, for a few minutes, his Destroyer division would be put under the threat of being shot. Sure, the ECM was at maximum capacity, but putting all faith of that program would be suicidal. The next bad news was the maneuverability of the ships. It appeared that since late 20th century, the humans of the old world had already believed that the only spaceships human had would be "flying bricks". The description could not be more… appropriate.

A few more shots were launched from the smaller crafts, but none hit their mark. However, the report on the energy spike was more than enough to make their hearts drop a few beats. On the other hand, it was totally confirmed that the new aliens, whoever they were, were not in the mood for the talking or peaceful negotiation. Why it happened was beyond Tameichi's mind, his job at the moment was to fight and to die, and not to question.

He bitted his tongue. Frustration was shown clearly on his face. Within the doctrine of Terran Federation, destroyers would be normally put up against heavy-weight opponent. Saying they were meant to be David facing off Goliath was a very apt description. In addition, just like in the Bible, the David was pretty armed to the teeth. Sure, his ship was equipped and built with such an idea in mind, suggesting a well-designed redundancy and protective system. However, it was just "theory", there was no real test (as in, actual combat) against any human's ship, let alone an ALIEN one.

Now, in the middle of his patrol, he had to test it, with no plan, no support, and probably no rescue… OK, the Task Force Insurance was parking right at the border of the system, a few degrees elevated from the ecliptic plane of the local solar system. But those ships were too far away to be here in time and rescue. Even with the Faster than light intra-system mode, or "Shock mode", there was not enough time, and the tolerance was just too low to accurately send in the relief. That allowance was decreasing by each second with both sides heading toward each other.

The smaller alien ships started opening fire. At closer range, it appeared that their aiming program was affected less compared to their flagship. However, the jamming of the Terran engineers proved their worth with all four shots went wide, missing their formation greatly. Everyone took a silent breath in relief, they had survived a few more moments. Now, all four smaller crafts were getting comfortably within the strike range for their missiles. Time for pay back.

"DesRon 27. Launch your Archer missiles. Three pods each. Fire pattern Bravo-2. Initiate five seconds after my mark. MARK!"

Five seconds passed in a blink of an eye. Then, from the top of each ship, three containers were silently pushed out thanks to some built-in gas canisters. And then, each pod just broke down, revealing their interior. Assuming the aliens had a sufficiently good optical sensor, they would probably shit themselves, if they had not, they should be. The reason was pretty simple, within each pod was over twenty missiles. Simple mathematics would give each ship sixty missiles launched in a single go, or two hundred and forty missiles for the whole salvo of the division. Those were 60 and 240 respectively, for the people prefer reading numbers by "numbers" rather than words.

That number, hopefully, would be enough to overwhelm any point defense system of the enemy. And if they were not, well, DesRon 27 would shift to Charlie-3. Then, it was just a matter of rinse and repeat.

Each missile was hurled forward, quickly gaining their speed with traditional chemical booster (read: oxidizing the fuel at a very high and controllable rate). Then, once the fuel had been used up, the fuel tank part was then discarded. The laws of momentum conservatism allow the warhead part to gain extra speed to its already fast velocity. Furthermore, the cosmos could be regarded as (relatively) free of friction force, allowing the velocity gained during the acceleration process to be preserved. Fast speed plus bonus speed equaled really fast speed, which meant hard-to-be-intercepted-or-evaded missiles.

Oh, and each missile was also equipped with a computer program, allowing them to function like a "wolf pack", making sure that the enemy stayed really dead. The missiles would talk (electronically) to each other, determining the angles of attack, the tempo or the intensity of the strike. Such a system had been implanted since early 21st century by a country called "Russia Federation", the ability of which had been field tested and combat tested, claiming over one hundred kills in a single day.

Now, those aliens were being tested, again. There were only four of them, not in the range of hundreds, but they would be… appetizers for what would be coming. These aliens dared to transgress against the Terran Federation, attempt killing her civilians, and actually kill her friends and allies. They shall taste the wrath of the Federation.

Something looked… disturbingly alike to laser sparked from the four alien crafts. A few missiles were hit and exploded. However, most of those shots went astray – probably due to the jammers installed inside the missiles – and there were enough missiles to ignore the ones being blown off by enemy's point defense.

Then, from both above and below the ship, the Terran missiles jumped on the ships like packs of hungry wolves. The first few… well, the alien ships always had shield, that was a given. Tameichi pursed his lips in worry. If the shield held, his missile strike would fail to damage the enemy ships, leading to the overall failure of the attack.

But he was lucky this time, no, humanity was lucky. The enemy shield had fallen under the constant barrage of missile. Their nature of thermonuclear weapons, also known as "hydrogen bombs", may help greatly in that feat. Scratch that, thermonuclear weapon definitely contributed greatly in bringing down those shields. Both nuclear and thermonuclear weapons used fission (simply understood as big atoms splitting into smaller atoms), but the latter had two fission steps and a fusion (small atoms forming bigger atoms) stage in between to generate extra high-speed neutrons to make sure that the second fission step happened really well. The "happen really well" part allowed all radioactive material was used up to generate a giant explosion.

But the humanity ingenuity did not stop there. An explosion would expand in a sphere, wasting over 90% (or more) energy if they just wanted to take down a certain target in a certain direction. Sure, it did not matter much on the ground, because other than the explosion, there was also the shock-wave, the heat and the radiation, but in space, those additional killing features were removed. Therefore, in order to be efficient, the nuclear blast must be directed in a certain direction.

The result of that? Simple, they used the directional nuclear blast in the Munroe effect, the blast could be either used to drive the projectile, or it would be used, by itself, as the projectile. The second form was being used by Destroyer Division 27 at the moment. And despite their less than sane ideology behind, they had been chosen as standard shipboard weapons of the Terran Navy. People could badmouth about the ethnics behind them, but none could disprove their efficiency.

Human standard weapons with standard usage were confirmed to have the ability to take down the enemy's shields, and by extension, the enemy vessels. Yes. The enemy vessels. After their shields were broken down, there was nothing to save those aliens from the Terran wrath coming in the form of the missiles. And there were a lot of them, both the wrath and the missiles, for the aliens to savour. One after another, the remaining missiles slammed down on the bare hull of the alien ships, engulfing themselves in giant fireballs. The excess missiles were programmed to self-detonated, removing the threat of unexploded ordnance on the battlefield afterwards.

Tameichi grinned, it worked. The attack actually worked in bringing down the enemy down. Sure, it invoked the trope Macross Missile Massacre and (very) liberal use of Weapons of Mass Destruction, but by the end of the day, the enemy was dead.

"Sir, hostile contacts Alpha-Two to –Five are destroyed. Alpha-One is now within the range of our L-MAC."

"Time on target! Open fire with one shot from each ship, then launch a salvo of missiles, two pods each from each of our ship. Time the second salvo of L-MAC with that missile launch. On my mark."

"Roger that! DesRon 27 is sending confirmation."

"MARK!"

The Shigure shuddered a bit, thanks to the Conservatism of Momentum, when a 65 ton metal slug leaving the barrel at the speed of 30 kilometer per second. The yield was pretty weak, just comparable to a tactical nuclear artillery shell, about seven kiloton of TNT, pretty weak compared to that thirty-six-kiloton of the biggest enemy ship. However, they had missiles rated at in the hundreds of kiloton, and some megaton ones, well, that difference in gun size did little to hold them down.

After all, the gun size did not matter, how it was used was what should be considered.

Four metal slugs quickly travelled through the dark space, quickly zoned in on the enemy vessel, a "cruiser" as dictated by the Prothean Archive. It was a bit long and on the upper end of the spectrum, nearling the dreadnaught classification, but still a cruiser nonetheless. Its shield would be… much stronger compared to the "frigates". Data compiled from the previous engagement showed that minimum twelve missiles were required to remove the shield completely. Well, the tempo of the attack was very high, aiming to overwhelm the enemy's point defense, so may be quite a few of them were wasted…

The whole bridge of the Shigure held their breath, waiting for the moment of truth. They felt dread rising inside while noticing the enemy was flaring the thrusters, planning to evade the attack. And then, their ship shuddered for the second time, signaling the launch of the second MAC salvo, this time, the sight had been adjusted to meet the new flight path of the enemy. But, was that enough to catch them?

The answer, terribly, was no. Among the four shots of the first salvo, only one shot, coming from Ariake, was able to slide on the enemy target, inflicting some minor damage. All three other missed the target by at least half of its length. The second salvo was even unluckier with all four shots missed completely. Tameichi cursed silently, it appeared that right off the bat, human had to face a few disadvantages already. At least there would be no fall-out from the failed MAC rounds. After a certain time of travel, they would self-destruct, eliminating its danger to anybody within this system. That was a little comfort to the humans.

However, the time on target tactic was derived for a reason, aiming for an enhanced damage on the enemy infrastructure and formation. In this case, the time on target allowed the human to compensate for their failed MAC strike with their insane missile barrage. Just forty missiles from each ship or one-sixty from the whole division, but they all focused on the same target, not spreading out like the last time.

Once again, the enemy sparkled with laser turrets, attempting to shot down the missiles. There seemed to be more turrets and beams, but the ratio of turrets per unit length of the ship was lower compared to the destroyed frigates. The result of that was… spectacular to say the least. Explosions filled the space around the cruiser, brighten up the screens, and then a final explosion took place, signaling the demise of the final target. Or at least, that was what they thought.

When the explosion finally died out and the radiation had thinned out enough, the sensors quickly picked up the scene. Seeing that, cheers erupted within the bridge of the Shigure. They did that! They had stood against alien aggression, and won! A total victory with zero… No, not zero casualty. The Iktomi did not live to see it. Tameichi bitterly thought silently.

However, he did not say it out loud, his men needed to release their stress. They just had the most intense ten minutes of their lives, from hostile alien contacts to actually prevailing over them. Not many people could actually stay calm and sane after that roller coaster of life. They almost lost their life a few times already.

The Terran Navy Commander breathed out in relief. The fight was finally over. It was a brief… and pretty brutal one. Hell. It was lucky too. Normally, a destroyer would be equipped with two missile pods only, after all, putting hundred thousands of TNT ton worth of nuclear ordnance on a starship on patrol was overkill, even for the human. Not to mention the distinct probability that some crews would go rouge. However, with their patrol being shared with the Quarians and the brass was still spooked about the aliens, his ship was loaded with the fullest set of weaponry, just missing the Putin Tsar with the yield of 200 megaton. In hindsight, it would deteriorate the relationship between the two people when… or if the Quarians found out. At least it helped them to avenge their fallen, so it may help a bit.

Tameichi took a deep breath… and just in time for the next alert report:

"Sir! New contact emerging from the Relay. Counting! Two… T… Four cruisers, and fiftee… no, twenty frigates. I repeat, four cruisers and twenty frigates, all with Element Zero, sir."

"What the ACTUAL fuck?"

He had no idea that had asked the same question a few minutes ago. And even if he did, he would still do the same again to vent a part of his anger. He had just blocked the advance of a hostile wolfpack, just to meet up with their reinforcement. The situation had just turned bleak for the humans. They were completely out-numbered now, six times by ship counts, and probably three or five times by tonnage, outgunned by a factor of… who kept counting, really?

The whole bridge turned silent, stared dumbfoundly at the screen. Their morale was dampened, right after it was lifted by the victory. The whole experience was shocking to say the least, no one could think of anything to do or to say. The bridge turned completely still with the only running sound was the breathing transmitted over the radio net. Five seconds passed, then ten… then fifteen.

"Gentlemen, how many Gods do we believe in?"

Tameichi glanced to the side, where his XO was sitting. What separated him from the others was his genetic code, he was the only one with partial Caucasian genetic material, which gives him a light-brown hair and a tall build. A mostly silent man, the officer was actually quite a beast during off-shore parties (and rumours suggested that he had an alcohol distiller hidden somewhere on the ship)

"One…"

Some of his other officers were murmuring. But it seemed like their voices were too small for the man's liking, which prompt him to speak louder:

"I ask YOU again! How many Gods do we believe in?"

"ONE!"

That was better…

"And what is His name?"

"Death!"

"And what do we tell Him?"

"Not today!"

"Aye aye, NOT TODAY! Hara-san, what is your order, sir?"

Tameichi grimaced, his men were putting faith in him, and they were ready for everything and anything. He could not fail their expectation, could he? Taking a deep breath to calm down his nerve, he glanced around the bridge, taking a good look at his crews, who were watching him carefully. They were waiting for his order.

"DesRon 27, launch missiles, two missile salvos, three pods each, five seconds interval, targeting the smaller crafts. Next, aim at the major ships with L-MAC at full charge, fire pattern Alpha-Four."

The order was calmly issued, and it was quickly taken out. The missiles gunned toward the enemy formation, altering their course in-flight to match up with the evasive maneuver of the enemy. Piercing that cloud of missiles was the occasional main gun attacks of the hostile cruisers. It appeared that these new ships had better firing solution, either because of better gunnery skill, better calibrated guns or just because they had better electronic warfare. Their rounds still missed the Terran destroyers, but the gap was considerably smaller than the last time.

It would only be a matter of time before the alien counter-jamming was able to brute-force through the ECM deployed here. Despite a very… rich history in electronic warfare, his officers failed to penetrate the enemy's firewall. But it was not like Tameichi expected to have it done within a few minutes of combat, the alien language and the programming base were too strange to deduce an efficient way for breaking in. At least, the ECM was enough to fool enemy's sensors, keeping them away from locking correctly on his ships.

The missiles were the first to reach the target area. The first salvo suffered heavy thinning before able to reach the target, still, they were able to remove the shield of nearly ten enemy frigates and damage the shield of one cruiser. The second missile salvo arrived unhindered, thanks to the point defense system was being saturated by the first one (or it was being overheat). Two hundred and forty missiles pounded on the enemy formation and exploded virtually in the same time, giving a bright flash, almost like a sun being formed.

The salvos served more than just some fancy light shows, they also released radiation and electro-magnetic waves, as it was their nature. Those would further blind the enemy's sensors and optics, giving them troubles in dodging the incoming kinetic strikes. No one could see it clearly, but the countdown showed that the 65 ton metal slugs were approaching the enemy ships.

As soon as the nuclear star died out, the L-MAC strike package arrived, slamming on the enemy cruiser. The heavy ships were seen visibly to be pushed back with the sheer intertia of the slugs. It appears that the cruiser's shield was capable of withstanding to at least three missiles and a fully-charged L-MAC strike. On the brighter side, five smaller crafts had been confirmed to be destroyed, and four more were marked as disabled. Nine – nil, so far, it was not a bad exchange for the fight.

However, the luck of the Terran Navy did not last long. Their missile arsenal was running low, just four pods left, the enemy accuracy was steadily increasing with a few scratching shots already, and their missile-analogue had already joined the fight. The last shared many similarities with the Disruptor torpedoes in the Prothean Archive, and they proved adapted in piercing through both the shield and the amours. Therefore, the Closed-in Weapon system (CIWS) of the ships was working in override mode, just to guarantee that those torpedoes could not reach the hulls.

A single mistake here would be extremely costly. But, Lady Luck had already stopped smiling with the humans.

A pair of frigates flew overhead and underbelly the Shiratsuyu in the same time, dropping a series of Disruptor Torpedoes, at least fifteen, in a mad dashing. The enemy had already started focusing the firepower on her, attempting to put at least one ship out of action. The point-defense on board was only able to block ten of them, and the remaining five quickly struck home, tearing the ship from the middle.

On board the ship, damage control party was flushed into action, trying their best to seal the exposed bulks and re-connect the wires. In addition, they also had to put out the fires in a few sections that were not vacuumed. Then, a sudden cry from the engineering told them that the oxygen tanker was leaking due to damage from combat. Before they had any chance to fix it, the tanker exploded, flushing out compressed gas, and then, the gas reached the burning sections, resulting in a giant explosion, practically gutting the Shiratsuyu.

The Ariake suffered a heavy focus fire as soon as the Shiratsuyu was disabled. All remaining hostile frigates pointed their guns and directed their torpedoes at her, dozens of projectiles blanketed all her escape vectors and saturated her point-defense. Bolts and shells were shot from the barrel, attempting to intercept the incoming, the ship itself rolled around its own axis, attempting to dodge the rest. She was not lucky enough. Three disruptors exploded near her starboard, pushing her forward to the left, just enough to have her bow hit by one round and another on her top. The axis for self-rotation was quickly destroyed, eliminating the on board artificial gravity. The ship was still combat capable, even if only just barely enough.

The next ship, Yuugure, was able to score two kill, paying back for the Shiratyusy, but she was not fast enough to protect the Ariake. She was hit by a cruiser strike, a thirty-six kiloton worth of TNT slammed on her portside, and another one at her bow. Her engine was put out of action, and her main gun was rendered inoperational. On her bridge, a few officers were knocked out due to the impact, leaving the remaining and the replacement to scramble over to cover. The damage control party on the Yuugure quickly rushed toward the, pouring their heart and mind to fix it. After all, a stopping ship was a dead one. Another party was heading to the power generator, trying to contain the meltdown of the nuclear power generator.

The flagship Shigure was arguable the luckiest for receiving no crippling shot so far. However, her point defense system had been removed completely, thanks to a series of disruptors torpedoes exploding a bit too close. The hostile cruisers were bracketing her, or at least, trying to. Thanks to a mad man at the Helm (to whom no one of the crew had ever shown their gratefulness, until now), the Shigure was able to defy physics with the movements should not be able to be done with her size. Sure, a few hallways and sections were reporting failure and cracks, but nothing to dangerous, or at least, as dangerous as on the other three ships.

Tameichi felt the seat soaking his hair and covering his forehead. However, he could not take out the helmet and wipe them, nor he had the time and focus to do so. Constant focus on the battle was required to stay alive for a little longer. Missile salvo, L-MAC strike, jamming system, chaffs… every single piece of weaponry was used to gain the slightest advantage possible. However, that job was proving to be increasingly difficult. The enemy was now close enough to brute-force through the human's jamming, and they still had the numerical and firepower advantage. In addition, his ship only had two missile pods left, just enough to cover their retreat.

"Comm, send out the encrypted message… We are pulling back."

Commander Hara had no other choice. He was being outgunned now, the most advisable route was to pull back and recover strength. At least the Yuugare was able to hot-wire their engine, giving them a brief window of maneuverability. She would have to stuck in the dock for a while, but it was much better than being killed off here and now. With all four ships laying down their last mass missile salvo, Destroyer Division 27 could safely pull back, dropping a beacon as the target for the main fleet to jump in.

"Helm, hard to starboard. Launch the last two of our pods. On my mark. Mark!"

The Shigure turned hard to the right, launching their missiles widely at the enemy as a final parting gift. Tameichi was waiting for the time when they got out of their enemy's firing range. Then, suddenly, the Combat Information Center (CIC) cried out:

"Sir! The Yuugure, the Shiratyusu, and the Ariake… they are not turning back sir!"

"What? Comm, open a channel to all three of them, now!"

On the main screen, the faces of three destroyer captains appeared. They all looked worse for wear. Kodai Maoru, captain of Shiratyusu, was the least injured, with just a few drops of blood on his suit and a duct tape covering the entire left side of his helmet. Orimura Ichika, leading the Ariake in place of the deceased captain, was seen bandaging himself – as in, trying to hold the blood pouring out of his missing lower left arm. Ayatsuj Kaito, captain of the Yuugure, was seen finishing delivering the orders to the replacement bridge officer.

"Goddammit you three! We should all get out of here."

"Negative Hara-san, I'm not."

"Same here."

"A samurai never retreats commander, I cannot follow your order."

The other three just blinked, in union, and Tameichi was damned sure that they were staring at each other's faces on their own screens. Then, they started to smirk in the same time. No, no, NO! Tameichi was screaming inside, yet, all he could do was to remain standing still in silence. Horror was engulfing his own consciousness.

"The Shiratyusu will remain on the battlefield and support the Shigure's withdrawal."

"The Yuugare will lend her support to the Shiratyusu."

"The Ariake volunteered to assist the Shiratyusu in this operation."

"Goddammit! We can accept losing this battle, taking a tactical retreat, so that we can win this goddammed war! We have done all we can here, we can even claim it a Pyrrhic victory for our enemy! Withdraw! Goddammit!"

"If we don't do anything, we cannot call in the reinforcement. You are the only left with a functional beacon commander."

"If you do not escape and release the beacon, sir, the reinforcement could not arrive in the proper manner, and there would be no one to protect this system."

"The Terran Federation needs you guys!"

"Thank you commander. It is an honor serving under you."

One by one, the three destroyer captains' images blinked out, leaving nothing but a black screen behind. The schematic of the situation was quickly shown in their replacement, showing the three destroyers heading toward the enemy formation. The Shigure slowly distant themselves from the Terran Navy group, now named as Heroes. Tameichi had no idea who did it, but he would do the same if he was in that man's shoes.

Energy spikes were reported, and the screen quickly showed the appropriate information. It was a MAC strike, followed by a full missile salvo. The group just kept going forward, turning down the charge of their main gun to gain extra firing rate. Reports still kept coming in, telling the status of both sides after each exchange. A frigate was dual tagged and hit from all sides with missiles. The Shiratyusu suffered further explosions on board, losing power in the aft section. The Yuugare and the Ariake combined their MAC to cripple an enemy cruiser, but latter suffered three torpedoes from their dying enemies as the parting gift.

And then, over the radio wave, a signal was transmitted in the clear. There was no encryption, no jamming, only pure speeches were shown

 _O'er the gelid waves of galactic streams,_  
 _Set course for the fixed star of Centuri_  
 _Our glorious cosmoship crosses o'er the void far,_  
 _Beyond those twinkling stars._  
 _Set Sail! We're casting off, anchors aweigh_  
 _Stand on your bearing, steady as she goes_  
 _(Steady as she goes)_  
 _Weather your helm towards the stars_  
 _We are Pilots_  
 _We are Pilots of the Cosmos_

Everyone in the bridge recognized that song, Ginga Kouro, or "Galactic Passage", one of the traditional songs of the Terran Navy. A few pair of misty eyes appeared in the room, but no one dared to sob out loud, for it could be seen as a dishonor to the brave men of the three other ships.

"Orders, sir?

"Shigure… Maintain direction."

A brief exchange between Tameichi and his XO was heard while the song was still blazing out from the speakers, even if sounds of explosions, crying, grunting were heard clearly.

 _Oh, now as we sail o'er the Kuiper Belt,_  
 _we've left the blue Earth behind us_  
 _Far beyond the trails of cosmic wakes,_  
 _We can see the event horizon, our heading._  
 _Set Sail! We're casting off, anchors aweigh_  
 _Stand on your bearing, steady as she goes_  
 _(Steady as she goes)_  
 _The sea of stars is this ship's destination_  
 _We are Pilots_  
 _We are Pilots of the Cosmos_

The Shigure boosted herself out of the combat zone, yet, she was unable to save her friends and comrades. She had no choice but to watch them die in anguish. One by one, the destroyers of the Heroes formation fell. The Shiratyusu suffered a disruptor torpedo strike at her engine and another gun strike at her power generator. She was gone in a gigantic fireball fuelled by nuclear power. The meltdown Yuugare reached critical level, and she decided to make her sacrifice worthwhile by ramming on a nearby frigate. Ariake was the last to go down, defying odds by every single second. However, the combined strike by three remaining cruisers quickly put her down, yet she was able to scratch one down as pay back.

Then, the net died down. It was still active, but it was just complete silence. There was no one there to send the messages to or to receive them from. A few moments, or a few minutes passed, then a green message appeared on the screen, signaling their arrival at the safe zone. Tameichi, too exhausted physically and mentally, just gesture with his hand, ordering the release of the beacon.

Two minutes later, Commodore Richard Jenkins jumped in with his 16th Cruiser Squadron, mopping up the battlefield. The remaining of the aliens, two functional cruisers and five frigates, all of them battered and injured, was not a challenge for four full strength cruisers who were hungry for vengeance.

The victory, for the Shigure, was a hollow one.

They had lost their friends, their comrades, their brothers and sisters… all gone and perished. And for that, the alien must pay for their crimes.

* * *

Yesterday, 14 February, 2201, a day that shall be remembered as a day of infamy, of injustice, and of outrage, the Terran Federation was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval forces of the Turian Hirerachy, a member of the self-proclaimed Citadel Council, a member of the alien conglomerate which had exiled our new-found friends and partners, the Quarians, with inequality, prejudice and racism centuries ago.

Prior to the attack, The Terran Federation had no official nor unofficial contact with the Hierarchy as well as the Council, but it was our intention to initiate a peaceful relationship with them, in the name of peace and prosperity, and the development of all sentient and sapient lives of this Galaxy. It is such a pity now, that such a dream has to be shelved in light of the events yesterday.

Despite our best intention, as well as our attempts at open communication, the Turians had ignored the openings, and instantly opened fire on our patrol with no warning. To prevent our own death, the crew of the Quarian ship Iktomi gave themselves in the ultimate sacrifice. Yet, even then, the Turian kept ignoring our calls and showed further acts of intense hostility, forcing our brave Navy to righteously defense themselves.

During the course of battle, Turian reinforcement arrived, confirming their plan and intention. They are here not to trade or to co-operate with us, they are here to utterly and totally annihilate us humanity as a race of this galaxy. The patrol formation of the Zhusanjiao has fought with bravery and honour, protecting our sovereignty and buying time for the reaction force to arrive. The attack has incurred great losses on our naval and military loss. I am regret to tell you that Terran lives have been lost. In addition, a vast area of our Federation is now under direct threat of invasion.

But, shall we bow down to the alien aggression? Shall we go down quietly into the night? No, we shall stand on our principles, we shall fight for what is right and what is dear to us. If the Turians are seeking our doom, it is of their own that they shall find here. If the Turians think that they would find a divided and conquerable race, we shall show them the united will of our Motherland.

Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger. The only solution for us is to brave the incoming storm, for surrender is not an option.

I humbly ask that the Assembly and the Council declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Turian Hierarchy on Saturday, 14 February 2201, a state of war has existed between the Terran Federation and the Turian Hierarchy.

For the Motherland, for the Terran Federation, let no alien transgression on our people and our sovereignty go unpunished, let this be their first and their last warning.

This is Chancellor John Jericho Sheridan, thank you for listening.

* * *

"[...] And then we heard President Roosevelt on the radio. That voice, strong and sure, taking our fear and turning it into a fighting spirit. He's why we won that war."

\- Commissioner John Gordon, Animated superhero film: Batman: The Dark Knight Returns

* * *

 **Well, that's a lot of words. My Microsoft Word tells me that there are over 8300 words (excluding the Author's note, Review response and Quotes) in this chapter.**

 **For the record, the song used in this chapter is Ginga Kouro or "Passage Galaxy", however, the blogger _August Ragone_ put the name as "Song of the Cosmos pilots". The song is taken from the anime "Space Battleship Yamato 2199" in Episode 1. The video is also available on Youtube, both vocal and instrumental versions.**

 **The speech at the end**

 **And I wonder how many cameos can you guys spot here.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Happy New Year everyone. I wish you a year full of success, love and luck. May you graduate the school, and may you pass all the test without having to re-sit (of course, being students, I do not even think that we know why and how we pass them, really). May all of your business blossom and yield great results. May the single ones find their love, and may the couples tie the knot soon.**

 **Though for the couples, sigh... The author is still single and in (kind of) a dire need to find a girl capable of withstanding his crazy antics, like Megumi to Tomoya in Saekano.**

 **And for the record, any one dare to ship another pair is a mad man (or woman) and a heretic, the Inquisitor will find you and make you answer for your crime.**

 **You have been warned.**

 **The Emperor protect.**

* * *

 **Now have you guys understood why I want some girls who can accept my crazy part?**

* * *

 **Thank you a lot for following, favoriting and reviewing on my story. The emails about those notifications always fill my heart with pride and joy. It means a lot to unprofessional and hobby-writer like me.**

 **Author's response to review:**

 **Apollonir** : Thank you for spotting out my mistake. Leaving the word "Japan" back in my speech (a shameless rip off from the Infamy Speech of FDR) is a terrible carelessness of mine.

 **Chronus1326** : Thank you for your review. I try my best to have "authentic-sounding" fire order. Hollywood has been doing a terrible job on how an army should work and fight nowadays, it is not about gung-ho or "shoot them all", it is more about "sufficient blend of firepower and precision" with great dose of professionalism. Quora has been a great help in this. Regarding the tech support from the Quarian, I do not think that they will yield anything valuable in the short term. And I don't think we (human) will have kinetic barrier in this story - and translate it into "we make something better, because fuck it, that's why" (or at least try to). Regarding the reference part, WoWS is actually inspired from the real world... though you are pretty close in an angle.

 **Olav152** : Welcome back my faithful reader. Your praise in my re-work really makes me feel prideful. It takes a lot of re-write, remove and and re-write (again) to have that - For example, I delete nearly 3000 words in this chapter, effectively re-writing the whole work to have a better result. Still, I have a feeling that my story can be further improved. For example, check on Apollonir (his review is below yours), his work on "Mass Effect: Iron Heart of Man" is very brilliant, and his story partially inspired me to write the first incarnation of this story. Regarding the main gun weapon, I deliberately put the first Turian cruiser at that value - as an old cruiser of the past ages, its size is comparable to a dreadnought, but its weapons are weaker. Think of it as a battlecruiser of the Mass Effect universe (and in space). Other ships, including four cruisers of the reinforcement, are newer, and therefore have a "smaller" dimension without as much sacrifice in combat ability.

 **OMAC001** : Thank you for your review. You have found one among a few references to both media as well as history issues. Though the use of John J. Sheridan is not that strange - most of the human ships come with a rotating structure to generate artificial gravity, which is made famous by Babylon 5 series. I wonder if you can find out the rest of my references. Hint: Three of them come after each other in three sentences, and there is another one that spanning over a few chapters already.

 **Watcher123** : Thank you for your review. I would answer your questions here, just for the sake of other readers  
 **One** , the human use a different form of FTL than the eezo-based. Its name is "Shock - Warp drive", though it is the famous name dubbed by the media (the official name is too much of a tongue twist). It is slower than eezo-based travel, but capable of sustaining a longer run.  
 **Two** , the human ships are slower and less manoeuvrable than the Council ships, not to mention that shield or deflectors would be quite far down on the road, but they are better in armour protection, weaponry, electronic-counter measure and stealth. The longer a fight get, the more advantageous it is for the human.  
 **Three** , the Turian Hierarchy and the Citadel will know about the incident, or at least, part of it. There are a few ships (frigate-sized) were able to escape and alert the Council. Too bad, ambition of a certain individual will muck up the process.  
 **Four** , within the next few chapters (up to three weeks worth of time), the Migrant Fleet would see very limit action, they would have to "risk" it to reach safety, but they also "risk" it by staying put. I have plans for them - Russian war movie style (where most of the good guy would be dead by the end of the movie, if not all of them, on the other hand, the mission is a success)  
 **Five** , you have a reference about B5 ("flying bricks") right, however, I haven't read the Honorverse series yet, and the idea about hard suits were actually inspired by The Expanse series (both TV and novel series)

 **CReaper210** : Thank you for your review. I hope that my work can continue to satisfy your need and pleasure.

 **Apedreitor [chapter 3]** : Thanks for your comment. Regarding the idea, I can confirm that there will be some funny fucked-up shit down on the road, currently, I have a few rough ideas: Garrus is the head of the black market in his school, his boot camp _and_ his unit, Saren has a(n) (un)wanted harem, Mordin drinks coffee, Talia has access to cowboy movies and Liara... gets access to human internet. Oh, and don't forget cat-girls, dog-girl and other animal-girls as well as Udina being the only sane man and the professional. Or somehow, the Turian and Human have an inter-species rivalry (like "we have better shit than you")

 **Apedreitor [chapter 6]** : Thank you for your praise

* * *

"Kaput..."

\- Assumed to be the last words of Manfred von Richtofen (1892 - 1912), "Red Baron", German Ace pilot of World War 1

* * *

 **Location:  
** Port Maw  
Edessan orbit  
Turian Hierarchy  
Citadel Council

 **Time:**  
2501 - 8th Month - 2nd Day  
12:03

 _Legion Legate_ Desolas Arterius studied the faces of his companions on the screen very carefully. Their plans to revive the strength and power of the Turian Hierarchy was facing serious… issues, which was in fact a nice and polite way to describe the situation. At least, being closed acquaintances with other figures of the room, he had no issue with saying out loud that the situation had turned from promising to varen shit faster than an Asari taking in a new lover.

Sure, it was slightly racist and sarcastic, but which soldier was not? Besides, it was sufficient for his colleagues to understand his point. The moment they thought they had the boon they were looking for, they found out that the universe just gave them a terrible deck of cards. Now, their job to revitalize the Turian Hierarchy had to face the greatest challenge ever.

The data came to Desolas accidentally enough, it was the result of a long night with too much free time for a young officer, too much alcohol and a very beautiful Turian working in the Archive office. The two of them after following a series of hyperlink (each time punctured with a lot of drink) had reached an article, dated back to the discovery of Prothean, about a "special weapon" hidden on a planet somewhere. Well, he did not know about it immediately – he had a female company, and both of them were drunk while infatuated with each other.

The next morning, they realized what they had done with horror filling their guts, and being career officers, they decided not to talk about it. Then, during cleaning up (read: destroying the evidence), they found out what they had found out the night earlier. The next few weeks were spent for the two of them to know each other, and as it turned out, both young officers were disgusted by the prospect of the Turian people. They were the guards of the light of civilization, yet they were stonewalled and disrespected by their own charges. They were the law keepers of the galaxy, yet they had to see their own people being kidnapped by the Batarian Hegemony – or rather, Batarian pirates according to official reports – as slaves and they were powerless to stop that.

Then, they decided, that "special weapon", whatever it was, would be used to strengthen the Hierarchy. It did not matter if they needed ten years, twenty or even thirty, it did not even matter if they failed to find it in their lifetime. As long as the Turian people got the position and the respect they deserved, it was enough for them.

That was the logic of Desolas. Well, that, and the Turian female officer was a highly pleasant companion. Sure, he kind of broke the rule when promoting her to be his personal aide when he reached the rank of _Legion Legate_ , but she had been a _Tribunus angusticlavii_ already, not to mention that she was highly capable. She dealt with paperwork and other boring jobs, but no one had enough guts (including himself) to tell that to her face. A dozen guns, Element Zero battery shipments and the like had been delayed to the unfortunate already. So while she was inducted into the rank of Eighth Legion in a roundabout way, her skills, dedication and tenacity made up for that – even if she was not a combative officer.

Still, the knowing grins of his friends whenever she reported to his office were annoying. Arseholes, the lot of them.

Deactivating his omni-tool, he grunted:

"So, gentlemen, what options do we have?"

"Well, the Third Fleet will be notified about the issue, as protocol requires… I'm still wondering if we should tell the Council or not."

"May be we can the Hierarchy, but only the top leaders, and definitely not the Council."

"Are you sure? The Third Fleet is under the command of the Citadel Council directly, and not under the Turian flag."

"Those ships, 100%, are manned by Turians though. We can trust them on keeping the secret. That woman may not agree to our methods, but she can accept our dream and vision."

"And how about the Primarchs?"

"I have two Blackwatch troopers dropping some booze at my house yesterday, gift from the Primarch himself. What do you think?"

Scratching his mandibles, Desolas listened to his companion's bickering. Despite their undisciplined appearance and behavior, he knew that they were Turian to the core, and they just showed their tantrum to their friends in a joking and playful way. The situation, while delicate, was still salvageable. His group was silent about their plans, but they still slipped once in a while, attracting the attention of a few high-rank officers as well as some Primarchs. Officially, two groups did not know about each other's knowledge, they key word was "officially". It meant that as long as the Desolas group stayed within the boundary of laws and served with distinction and honor, all would be fine.

Now, his group had to face the ultimate challenge: to do, or not to do. Well, it sounded a bit wrong and misleading. He had to do something, considering that he was the leader of the group, and he was the first to receive the report from the poor captain Marcen Muldivus. The question was just "how".

Taking a deep breath, he scanned over the information. Port Maw was just a few days worth of maneuvering to the alien system, and the nearest (official) reinforcement from the Hierarchy took seven days – assuming no politicking was involved. Gathered here, in the Port, was elements coming from three different armies, with their attached fleets and legions. Well, four, if he could count the Third Patrol fleet with the representative of the lone surviving frigate.

Those aliens and the suit-rats… they were sitting right next to the treasure. None of that sounded promising in the least. Sending a police force in to punish the crimes would be quite dangerous. The first battle in the system saw liberal use of nuclear weapons as standard anti-ship weapon, not even the Krogan were that crazy. Sure, those beasts had nuclear weapons too, but they mostly used them as ground-base weapon and they were still (relatively) nit-picking in terms of deployment. The aliens? They just launched a crap ton of them in a single salvo.

It appeared that the only way to win this would be a battle of attrition. From the look of it, the enemy just had four cruisers and four dreadnaughts, the first as local patrol group, and the second as reinforcement. Sending in dreadnaughts, with no escort, into the fray was either a stupidity, or a proof on how few ships they had. So, instead of four dreadnaughts for four fleets like the Turian, those aliens may have less than two fleets.

That was even under the assumption that the suit-rats had been helping them, which Desolas doubted greatly. Those Quarians rarely, if ever, conducted a business without stealing something for their own. Desolas was not exactly cherry picking about it, but when some freaking suit-rat stole a frigate and proceeded to blow five Batarian ships, it got personal. Namely, it should be his ship, the first to command.

That criminal was called Zara'Zoui, or something like that, and he had been looking around to find him, for punishment. Sure, his personal aide would call it "revenge", but he knew better than to argue with her on small details like that. Or she would simply stop cooking lunch and breakfast for him, and the food in the canteen was just terrible. Edible? Yes. But tasty? No, dear Spirits above, it was not.

His mind, upon realizing that its coursed had gone astray, forcefully pulled itself back to the line, namely, whether he should send his force to that system. It sounded profitable enough, under the guise of police keeping (which he would do anyway) to recover some special assets leftover by the Prothean (which would see his personal dream realized). However, Desolas knew that he had too little intelligence to act on. Even the first-hand report was unable to shine any new light on, the aliens, for their barbaric attack, were… competent in electronic warfare.

Glancing to the side, his sight fell on the aide, still standing at attention. Ignoring the smirks formed on his friends on the screen (they had done that so many times in the past already), he asked:

"How many force we can muster from this Port at once?"

"Sir, we have two dreadnaughts, thirty cruisers with ten light cruisers, along with approximately one hundred frigates. Strike crafts for space-borned defense number at fifty, in total. The numbers are equivalent to a full fleet, plus a dreadnaught."

"And the ground force?"

"We have a fully-armed legion, sir. That is to say after we combine all elements currently here."

"How long does it take to muster the rest of our force?"

"For our Eighth Army, it would be three to five days, and then we would be at full strength, with both Eighth Fleet and Eighth Legion readied for deployment."

Sufficient risk. Within five days, Desolas would have four full armies fighting against the alien menace. Sure, it sounded like some over kill, but it was better to have some reserves, especially when WMDs were involved. Besides, with overwhelming number, it would greatly reduce the loss of the Turian, both in number and in percentage.

So be it, the force would muster and respond to the threat. The aliens may have nuclear weaponry and electronics jamming, but his force had the competency and the number to counter them. May be not easily, but enough to land solid hits on them. And then, he still had the ground force to make the enemy bow to the Turian flag.

"Gentlemen, I have an idea."

The idea was proposed, and there was no one opposed to the invasion plan. The Staff of each man was called upon, drafting an attack plan. The details were constantly introduced and tested, by both experience and simulation. Extra information was gained with the presence of the poor surviving frigate Captain. He should be a broken sobbing wreck if he was not a Turian, but because he was a Turian, he had already stood right back up and supply information as well as his own insights and theories. Desolas had to give a grim smile, the Turian discipline and competency still prevailed. They had no care if they had to face a suicidal race or some desperate beggars of the galaxy. They had a job, and that was to keep the Hierarchy prosper and the Galaxy safe.

They would do that, or die trying.

By the end of the day, the task force had already set sail. Two dreadnaughts, twenty-five cruisers with five light cruisers, along with approximately ninety frigates were sent on the first invasion wave. Their job was to create a foothold, both in space and on the colony found, buying enough time for the second wave, constituent of three fleets and legions, to deploy. If he was able to pull off that move, the operation would be the forth-largest maneuver in the history of the Turian Hierarchy. All the three above its had seen tremendous success, there was no reason that this one could not accomplish the same.

Right?

* * *

 **Location:  
** Unnamed system  
Other side of Relay 314/313  
Turian Hierarchy (?)  
Citadel Countil (?)

 **Time:  
** 07:35 - Terran Standard time  
16 February 2201

The Terran Federation was livid. The news of alien attack had stirred the society greatly. Many processes had been turned upside down, and only through his personal connection that Admiral Shivam Sodhi could know how messed up it had been. His friends in the ISIO said that many criminal gangs (the big ones) had already said that they would lay down their arms and activities, at least until the aliens had been defeated. They were criminals, sure, but they were _human_ criminals. On Jerusalem colony, the most religious one among the entire Federation, all religious group, be it Catholic, Orthodox, Protestant, Muslim or Buddhism, they suddenly quelled down their dislike for other groups simultaneously and independently, something about "those fuckers are more heretics than their own misguided human fellows". The Pacific colony, the most peaceful and anti-war settlement, saw a surge in volunteering for the armed forces. Not the combat position though, but for such nice guys to join the Medical Corps, the C&C (Chaplain and Commissar – because no one remembered their original name) units and even the Diplomat office, it spoke volume for how much they had been spooked.

Still, those were not what important at the moment. He was caressing a cricket bat in his hand and eyeing the Quarian officers carefully. Of course, that was just some extra impression, the Quarians had been "guarded" very carefully by a full contingent of Airborne troopers and AIs. The gaps in their reports had indirectly led to the death of the 27th Destroyer Squadron with more than seven hundred casualty. To say his men got upset was an understatement, and with Navy personnel being on the unstable end of emotional spectrum, Shivam threw the security duty to the Marines, just in case.

Technically, the aliens did not break any rules, and the politicians back home had expressed "concerns" and "requests" for them to be treated nicely. However, Shivam used those papers to wipe his arse the moment the screen was turned off. His job was to bring his men back home alive and to protect the Federation, others be dammed, so he decided to juice the Quarians for more details under the guise of "success of future defence" – as in "you either tell us, or we would make your life miserable".

It worked beautifully, especially after he put a quirky and playful AI to be their watcher. Heh, when the AI had a tank-girl appearance (someone in the IT Department had smoked too much weed the night before) and constantly referred to guns and deaths, even the most hardened aliens sang like a bird. He should try that tactics more frequently, because somehow, it made him more threatening. Especially when he had a cricket bat in the hand and a bunch of blue-beret guards, the Airborne trooper.

The interrogation was continued (again), with every single scrap details was asked. His fleet was right on the doorsteps on the Council, trying to gain a foothold on enemy territory to protect the Federation with a buffer zone. The information he gained was half-welcomed and half-terrifying in the same time.

He had no idea what to make of the intelligence. The 1000m-length mark was the limit for both sides, but for different reasons. For the Turians, it was due to economics and technology limit, at 1000m and above, it became too expensive and complex to build and maintain the said vessel. With regards for humans, it was because they have no need to build ships longer than that size, the ship lost its cost-efficiency. Technically, they had plans to build larger ships, but most simulations pointed out that the increase in production cost was not worth the increase in combat power. At least, the human would have a new reason soon, something about a giant middle finger to the aliens' faces.

The second part was the economy size. The Turian was a few hundred years ahead human in space exploration and build up, yet, the economy was just barely larger than the Terran Federation. Sure, the information and data was old news, compiled a few years back in the Codex of the Quarians, but even with the prospect of economic growth, the gap between two sides were not that big. The reason for that… well, the Turian just looked down on developing economics prowess and spent most of their resources on the military – it would end badly, proven by human history a few times. The only reason why they had yet to gone crashing down was due to their allies, namely Asari and Salarian, as well as their client race (a glorified term for slave) volus. It would be troubling to involve extra alien races here.

The third was the combat style of the Turian. Due to racial bias as well as lack of official information, he had nothing more than "shoot first and ask later". Considering what had happened a few days ago, it was… highly likely, and equally disturbing.

The forth was probably, no, definitely, a good news. There was no carrier-equivalent within the forces of the Council. It made sense in the context. The Asari, for their bust and bosom, had little knowledge on large scale conventional warfare, focusing on fast-moving small units instead. It explained their high contingent of frigates and light-cruisers. Their allies, the Salarian, evolved from herbivores, relying on their strength in ambush and hiding, which later translate into espionage and small stealth vessels. The most militaristic race, the Turian, could not even swim, explaining their lack of naval warfare and by extension, the development of carrier. Other races were either too small, isolationist or rife with internal conflicts to be taken into account.

Well, he just had to utilize that advantage then. The human had the edge in armour, electronic warfare and probably their independence on Element Zero. Now, they had the extra blades in the Aviation arm of the Fleet (Fuck the Air force, that was what) and the ability to re-configure themselves into wartime economy. Still, the second would take a few months to do. Hell, even the paperwork was not done yet.

Sending out the Quarians into their… lounge (or very well-guarded and well-reinforced rooms), Admiral Shivam Sodhi took the whole situation into account. His force had punched through the Relay and travelled a significant distance to some unnamed, unmanned system. At least it was brazen with nothing but a white dwarf star with a few lifeless rocks. Further scouting and inspection yielded the theory that the system had been strip mined before, about fifty thousand years, give or take a few hundred.

Satisfying with the void of hostile presence, he quickly ordered the ships to spread out and get into formations. The Relay on the other side of the system, numbered "212", was blockaded by a nuclear minefield and two fighter wings, supported by two Destroyer Squadrons. Behind them stood an extra contingent of ten cruisers (or "dreadnaughts" for the poor aliens), and finally, mid-way to the Relay 313 was a group of two light carriers and one fleet carrier along with their escorts.

The rest of the Task Force was scattered around the system, for both patrolling and reinforcement should the situation needed them. The number of ships being hidden in the system totally outnumbered what he was deliberately showing the aliens, whenever they came through and saw it. He hoped it was…

"Sir! Reporting! The Relay is activating! Unknown enemy vessels are passing through!"

"Understood, everyone hold fire. Repeat, everyone holds fire. Let's try diplomatic for the last time, before we follow the Rules of War and kill those aliens."

A sudden report from his watch officer waked him from his own line of thoughts. Finally, the enemy had showed their faces. Well, the moment of truth was coming, he had no choice but to face it head on. After all, that was what he was ordered to do, and paid for. Considering how much professional the Navy had been trying to show (despite the gay jokes from the Army and the Marine), he knew that he had to face it head on, with style, preferably.

Stepping out of his office, the Admiral tried his best to quell down his worry and anxiety. Yes, the aliens had shot the first fire, yes, the human had officially declared war on the aliens, yes, he had given the order to transmitted that message through the Relay. But, no, both sides had yet to "officially" try their best to kill each other, or even acknowledge the other chain of command. It only meant that if the aliens agree to accept for a cease fire (or better, a surrender), no one else would have to die.

The watch officer on the bridge constantly sent him the reports and updates. The vessels passing though the Relay were small, even for eezo standard, barely one hundred meter in length. In addition, they gave no reaction to all messages sent by the humans, including the ones asking for diplomatic talks (which were given in all known form of alien languages). The officer even suggested that those ships were unmanned but found no proof to support his theory.

Finally, Admiral Shivam Sodhi reached the bridge of the flagship, Fleet carrier Indominatus. He quickly exchanged the salute with his watch officer and stared at the image sent by the 21st and 17th Destroyer Division. Those spotted vessels were blocky in nature, with "fins" extended in four directions at their ends, housing what looked like mini thrusters. In addition, the main bodies of the vessels were covered with something like arrays of antenna and communication disks. Hmm… At least those Turians showed that they could learn well.

They knew that humans had nuclear missiles as anti-ship weapons, so they made the (correct) assumption that there would be human mines. They also guessed correctly that the humans would press on and advance through the Relay. Though they may not consider the option that those nuclear mines were installed with basic stealth modules, or the humans decided to hide most of their counter forces in an ambush.

Then, a new report was sent from the 21DESDIV – a communication. Acting as an intermediate between the human flagship and the (probably) alien drones with the help of QEC and translation matrix, they translated the messages coming from each side and then transferred them to the intended recipient.

The image of a Turian quickly appeared on the screen, and a few seconds passed in silence when both sides analyzed the other with their gaze. The human admiral suddenly felt that the alien on the screen was a bastard child of the extinct dinosaur with some kind of bird on Earth. The image was completed with what looked like some white exo-skeleton covering his (probably a male) face and a crown growing over his head.

Then, the alien spoke, its original voice sounded harsh, almost like someone had swallowed a piece of sandpaper and now trying to recite poetry.

"This is _Legatus Legionis_ Desolas Arterius of the Turian Hierarchy. On the authority of the Primarch, I order you to stand down and submit to our authority, ready to be trialed and judged according to the Citadel Council laws."

Did that just say what he thought? It must be so, the attached AI of the Indominatus, Robotute had checked that twice, along with some other bridge officers. The message was translated correctly, those aliens wanted him to surrender and submit to their rule, effectively becoming their slaves. Too bad for them, his own heritage had a credible proof showing that doing so was a terrible idea, no matter how bright and shiny the future would be.

"To the Turian commander, this is Admiral Shivam Sodhi of the Terran Federation, representing human race. I refuse, repeat, I refuse to submit to your dominion or your rule. Your people had invaded our sovereignty in the first place, killing our people and partners with zero warning. That is an act of war in and by itself, and in response, we have declared war on the Turian Hierarchy. You have three choices: surrender and no one would die, ceasefire and we may be able to bring peace back, or you can fight and you will be killed."

The message was transmitted to the 17th Destroyer Division, then translated to the Turian language before forwarding to the alien drones. Those machines would send the signal through the Relay back to their commander. The response came back soon enough, and it looked like the enemy commander had gotten angry.

"This is the territory of the Turian Hierarchy. Do you dare to dictate terms to us, you primitive humans?"

"After you have invaded our land? Yes, yes I do. So, what do you want? Surrender? Ceasefire? Or death?"

The screen just turned black immediately after the message had been sent. What a prudent man.

Still, the answer had been given, and the human admiral just gave a single phrase to every single human ship in the system. The message was brutally short, concise, to the point and transmitted on open signal, but it did its job

"Everyone, battle station."

In every single ship, the scene quickly turned into controlled chaos with sailors and officers taking turns to put on their hardsuits. Despite a high number of personnel, those men had practiced the procedures countless times, allowing them to work on with smooth and ease. Sure, there was tension in the air, there was dread filling each of them, but they still got their job done. Five minutes, and everyone on the ships had finished changing suits, two minutes later, air within each ship was vented and stored within the tanks.

The guns were primed, the missile pods were engaged, and jammers were ready for deployment. The humans were ready for their first true space combat – both sides knew that they had to fight, they knew about their enemy's intent, and they knew that the only way was to fight.

Then, the Mass Relay flashed itself. A group of hostile frigates appeared, surrounding the Mass Relay. The number was steadily increasing, first five, then ten, twenty, thirty, fifty… They were quickly joined by a group of fighter-like small vessels, the number was small, but sufficient to cause worry for the admiral. If those smaller ships were truly fighters, they would have little trouble in finding and destroying the nuclear mines. In addition, the transition from FTL speed was executed brilliantly, the ships which had arrived quickly spun up their sub-light drive and boost out of the arrival zone, making room for their companions. The whole process was very smooth, no hiccups, no obstacles, even the Home Fleet would be fairly hard pressed to get that kind of maneuver done, even with the human-built FTL drive. Hell, Task Force Insurance took nearly fifteen minutes to organize themselves after passing through the Relay.

The difference there was a real testament for the gap between the two Navies. The last engagement was won not because the Terran was better, but because they were simply luckier. This time, it looked like the Terran luck had run out.

"All ship engages electronic warfare at once! Prime the mines for detonation. Ten seconds after my mark. MARK!"

The Admiral spoke with a slightly raised voice into the microphone integrated within his helmet. Some may say he was being too aggressive, but he was just doing his job here: to find the Turian forces, then to destroy or at least to neutralize them, opening the avenue for a peace talk, preferably one with human coming out on top. The survival and prosperity of the human race, if not the Terran Federation, depended greatly on the outcome of the war.

His order was given out just in time. A few mines had been spotted by the enemy force, proven by the sudden dash of the fighters with their guns blazing. The point-defense system of the enemy frigates also joined in, flashing their laser lances in all direction. Many mines were blasted out of their position and while they still exploded, their energy was wasted by being focused on the wrong direction. The Turian Navy was fast, and accurate, but they were not early or soon enough. Their accuracy could be attributed either to their high-end sensors, or the eyes of the fighter pilots, or even the drones they sent in earlier.

A series of thundering nuclear explosions filled the horizon around the Mass Relay, almost effectively create the image of a new star there. The Terran knew better, it was just an illusion. The reports of mines being "utilized" quickly filled on the screen, but no one knew how effective the field exactly. Hell, no one would even send more than fifty ships to fight.

Sure, fifty light-weight and small ships, even in their own classification. But even a swarm of ants could bite down an elephant. In addition, the Turian Navy had proven itself to be a dangerous enemy already, there was no chance in hell that they would just send in the small ships to be sacrificed like that. Admiral Sodhi knew that they big hitters of the enemy were on the other side of the Relay, and they were just about to move in, probably as soon as they got the confirmation that the minefield was clear.

Some may say that sending a high number of ships to a mined space would be a stupid mistake, but the problem was that it could work beautifully, especially when one had the reserves he needed. And the Turian had the number to fill in the vacancies from the attrition here. May be, they even had more than enough.

The light died out as fast as they were made, and the tally was quickly made. Two hundred nuclear mines were deployed, thirty were destroyed and neutralized but the remaining was able to strike a heavy blow on the Turian frigate screen. Eighteen ships were destroyed completely, ten more suffered critical damage, twenty suffered various degree of damage, but still combat worthy.

Then, before anyone had the chance to celebrate, a few more flashes of light appeared, bringing in a dozen of ships. Cruisers. The data transmitted from the 17th and 21st Destroyer Divisions quickly rated them as cruisers according to the Prothean catalogue. Before any Terran ships even opened fire, though, extra enemy force fiddling in.

Two dreadnaughts, twenty-eight cruisers along with fifty-four frigates were not a small force. No, it was a full on invasion fleet.

Everyone on the bridge of the Indominatus took a collectively gasp. That was seventy four ships in total, virtually equal to their own Task Force. Sure, they had the edge in morale with recent victories, but it did not mean they have the tactical advantage. There was no guarantee that they could even survive the battle, let alone wining the engagement or even this war. Everyone started to feel fear and dread creeping up on their spine, for war had finally came in the full swing knocking on their faces.

The Admiral swallows the saliva to calm down his itching nerve. The war had finally reached the main stage now. From now on, there would be no turning back, there was only death or victory. He took a deep breath while closing his eyes, reaching a final decision.

If there was only death or victory, then so be it. He would fight to the bitter end then. For the Motherland.


	9. Chapter 8

**Hello folks. It's nice to get back to writing here. This chapter was fairly hard to write, mostly because of my intention to keep the balance between two sides. After all, the humans were able to win the battle in Zhusanjiao system (in Chapter 6) was thanks to their recklessness (full deployment of nuclear ordnance), their paranoia toward the Quarians (enough virus and jamming to shut down a supercomputer) and the Turian commander's incompetence.**

 **Now, with Desolas Arterius in charge and a much more careful mindset, the balance will be much more balanced. And it is hard to write.**

* * *

 **Review's responds:**

 **Olav152: Thanks for your review, and the actions will finally begin in this chapter. The war between the Humans and the Turians has finally begun, as in "both sides begin to really trying to kill the other". And... yeah, that A/N...**

 **OMAC001: Well, just standard stuff, you know. WAR!**

 **Watcher123: Thank you for your praises. Desolas may come as arrogant - but that is wrong, he is just self-confident, the difference between the two is that the later has the guts and skills to back up his claims. And yes, this Turian will be VERY dangerous, I have my own plans for him, enough to invoke the trope "Take a level in badass". Within this chapter, there are a few hints on his own badass and competency.**

 **CReaper210: Thanks for your review.**

* * *

"Tell the men to fire faster! Don't give up the ship!"

\- James Lawrence (1781-1813), Captain of USS _Chesapeake_ , [former] United States of America during her War of Independence

* * *

 **Location:**  
Unnamed system  
Other side of Relay 314/313  
Under contested

 **Time:**  
07:38 - Terran Standard Time  
16 February 2201

The first real naval battle between the Terran Federation and the Turian Hierarchy had finally begun. In the opening move, the nuclear minefield of the humans had been spotted by their enemy, effectively reducing its lethality. A combination of fighter strikes and point-defense weapon platforms had neutralized fifteen percent – that was 15% - of the mine field. Luckily, the remaining mines were able to strike down eighteen Turian frigates and gut a further count of ten.

However, despite horrendous lost on the frigate screen (more than a quarter of their total strength), the Turian fleet still pushed out, undeterred by the ultilised minefield as well as the residue radiation. The number they had overwhelmed what the human had mustered up to protect their own land. In addition, Admiral Shivam Sodhi also splited up his force, hiding nearly a third of his Task Force within the system for future harassment operations. To say he was outnumbered was a real understatement.

However, he knew the risk, fighting head on against a powerful, fresh, well-equipped enemy with high morale was stupidity. It was much better and more efficient to draw them out, make them spread over their forces and then defeated them one by one. Sure, it took longer time, but it was better and more life-efficient, not to mention that human history was full of such victory. The Vietnam War was arguably one of that, but the triple victory of their people on the Mongolian Empire in XIII was definitely a proof.

Besides, intelligence had delivered a crucial piece of intelligence: the Turian could not consume normal food of human which had levo-type protein inside, meaning that they could not procure, hunt or gather any "edible" of the human in the nearest three colonies and had no choice but to rely on their supply convoy. It meant that their force would be stretched even further, and he would have a pressure point to deal with them. Sure, scientifically speaking, his theory had more holes than he wanted to, but in general, the idea that Turians having trouble eating Human food was a sound one. Therefore, he just had to attack their supply convoy to gain back the advantage.

Well, to reach that part, he needed to win this battle, or at least made the Turian bleed for this lifeless and useless system first. That, in and by itself, was a major trouble.

"To Combat Group One: 1, 4 and 8 DESRON, MAC on hostile group Delta-Alpha One and Two, 16 and 18 CRURON, launch MAC, all fighters and bombers on enemy Alpha One and Two. All formation, launch missiles, pattern Alpha-One, targeting all Tango-Charlie group, four pods for destroyers, two for cruisers. To Combat Group Two: ready for maneuver, Combat Group Three and Four: hold position, maintain stealth. Execute!"

His order was given, and the Vanguard formation, consisting of two Destroyer Divisions and two Cruiser Squadrons quickly complied. Weight for weight and size for size, a Terran ship seems to have more armor and firepower equipped on them, not to mention that the enemy would be spooked, seeing eight "dreadnaughts" bearing down on them.

Well, their fault for attacking Terran Federation. To be honest, he would feel fear if he found out that the equivalent of the (proposed only) Terran battleships bearing their main guns on him were just "cruisers" of an alien empire. He almost felt sympathy for these aliens. Key word: almost.

The strike of the Terran Federation struck on the enemy formation, using the blindness caused the radiation to cover their attack. The electronics on the alien ship were probably burnt out, either temporary or permanently, due to EMP, or electro-magnetic pulse as well as all types of nuclear radiation: alpha, beta and gamma. From the report of the last engagement in the Zhusanjiao system, it appeared that the aliens had not hardened their system enough to stand against the attack. Well, they did shield it, but it was only enough for "standard" space radiation, which was well below the threshold of nuclear weaponry.

They were effectively blind and dull, which was quite terrifying in the first place. With their eyes and ears being cut off, they could not notice the incoming MAC strikes. The L-MAC was "light", a 65 ton slug with the speed of 30km/s with a small yield, in term of space combat, just shy of seven kiloton of TNT (or, seven million kilograms of trinitro-tolunene). One was enough to cause injury within 10m-radius and a "very high chance of very very dead" within 1m-distance, and it was only with normal heat and shockwave. Multiply it by seven million times, post it with a message of "Fuck you" signed by Terran Navy, and one could imagine how powerful it was.

Well… it was the Light variant, pretty much self-told with the letter "L" in the "L-MAC". Due to its "light" nature, the gun was only equipped on light vessels, primarily destroyers and frigates. However, L-MAC was only used as main weapon on frigates, which were a glorified term for "first boring and undeserving post after Naval Academy graduation" or "convoy pimp", with the second being used much more frequently than the first. On the destroyers though, the canon was barely used, if ever, with the captains much preferred their missile arsenal, capable of loading pretty much every single configuration the humans had made, from "normal" anti-armour (for starship-scale) to "nuclear" missiles, up to and including "Putin the Tsar".

On the cruisers, main ship of the line in the roster of the Terran Navy, the guns were "up-scaled" into MAC, just MAC, standard Magnetic Accelerator Canon. The scale was heavily geared upward from the light variant with a slug of 200 tons and the muzzle velocity of 50km/s, the yield was approximately sixty megaton, falling in the upper-average of the nuclear arsenal of the Federation. From a race with an unexplainable love for nuclear weaponry, that was something to say.

With that much of fearsome firepower, the Turian ships quickly took a beating. They were not killed yet, mostly due to the existence of their shield, but they did not escape unharmed. The salvo of 6th, 17th, 21st and 32nd Destroyer Divisions, gunning toward the (surviving) frigates, quickly showed their results. Twenty-four L-MAC shots of three Destroyer Squadrons slammed on twelve different Turian frigates and visibly altered their orientation and flight paths, which following the rules of physics and common sense. Meanwhile, 16th and 18th Cruiser Squadrons had different target: the two enemy cruiser-analogues, or dreadnaughts as they were called originally in the alien doctrine. This time, the firepower was focused more tightly, with four shots for each dreadnaught. While one shot was missed on each ship and another was just a "grazing shot", the two hostile vessels were forced off their original flight paths, thanks to the energy and momentum. Sure, there was no visible damaged on those ships, but they were all forced off their original orientation, and there was no "blinking effect" in response to the kinetic strike.

In your face, ChemiStore, Hard Science was always different from the soft-core shit they poisoned the youngsters with.

The opening move, roughly a minute within the emergence of the Turian fleet, saw the odds stacking in favours of humanity. Eight frigates and two dreadnaughts suffered shield damage, and two more cruisers were struck. All of those happened within less than two seconds, and the next delivery was in bound.

However, it took quite a while for the missiles wave to travel through the void between two formations, after all, space was big. At least it was not too long then. A combination of improved algorithms for launching the pod and exhausting the thrust had allowed the missiles to gain some extra speed, reducing the probability for hostile point defense system to hit them. With the help of increased ambient nuclear radiation and built-in electronic warfare modules, the missiles were able to progress relatively unharmed to their final destination.

Those might be the reason why the aliens took quite a while to initiate their laser point-defense system, much later, comparing to the Battle in Zhusanjiao. However, the number of laser beam was definitely higher this time, partially compensating for their late reaction. Red laser beams lashed out from the turrets attached on the hulls of the spacecrafts, matching earlier description and sensor reading. Of course, the Admiral had no way to know for sure that what he saw was actually laser, it required a full autopsy and more dedicated observation, but "red laser" sure was a short, quick and visualize way to describe them.

Quantity had a quality of itself, it was a brutal, but apt, description of the situation. The number of laser beam was significantly higher than the last engagement, courtesy of the major enemy combatants. They were wounded, but they were no down for the count, still combat worthy, and still had a lot of sharp tooth for fangs. Admiral Shivam Sodhi felt impressed by the enemy. They were definitely well-disciplined, which was a given for an officially military force. After all, they were planning to make a major incursion into Terran Federation, sending a ragtag bunch of pirates would be… impolite and amateurish at best, and outright stupid and incompetent at worst.

Still, the Admiral had to deal with these vessels first.

The missiles had finally broken through the defensive screen of the fleet and began their final approaches. Thanks to the data input from the gutted 27th Destroyer Division, the humans had been able to gauge the approximate number required to take down an enemy vessel with missiles, both nuclear and standard types. Therefore, instead of "dose them in the holy fire of atomic bombs" with overwhelming and outnumbering missiles, the Task Force had been able to fine tuned their attack, lowering the total number of nuclear missiles being used yet still keep up the required damage threshold.

Sure, a good proportion of them was oliberated by overlapping fields of hostile point-defense, however, all of them were "standard" anti-armor missile, very high-scale anti-armor, but still the basic variant nonetheless. They did their job in the end, paving a way for other missiles to break through, and furthermore, no nuclear missile was lost to enemy defense. Major explosions, accompanied by small flashes of light, were noticed among enemy formations from afar. The missiles had finally struck on the enemy vessels.

Through the feed and sensor readings supplied by the Destroyer Divisions, the Admiral watched over the result of the attack. The odds were still in human's favour, but the enemy had enough numbers to counter it, if not more. In addition, these ships had taken great measure to counter-attack the missile barrage of the Terran fleet, obviously learning from the previous encounter. Sure, their point-defense system was activated a bit late, but those ships did all they could to fight back the strike.

Chaffs and decoys were used, they were old-fashion, but they still had their own uses in certain cases. The ships also moved forward, attempting to throw off the missiles somehow. Their ideas were sound, at least if the ones attacking them were not humans. Years and decades of conflicts and wars had taught those basic counters and even the counter-counter to mankind, the ones failed to do it satisfactorily had to pay their tuition fee with blood.

Shields on various Turian ships were being broken down, exposing themselves to the remaining missiles. Ten more frigates were removed from the enemy dossier, ten more were practically crippled. Then, following right behind the first missile wave, a second missile waved approached, following the doctrine of pattern Alpha-One. More ships were removed from the equation. The AI Gabriel could not hide his glee, waving his giant warhammer in the hologram while recounting total enemy loss so far.

The decapitating attack of the Terran Federation had enough nuclear firepower to saturate a few regions on Earth with ease. It sounded horribly wrong, yet, it was also highly satisfying. Ten frigates were killed, five more were crippled and roughly thirty suffered from various degree of damage. From the original list of one hundred frigates, only a quarter of the frigates were able to escape unharmed, mostly thanks to their position behind capital ships. However, to pay for that, the major Turian hitters had to suffer quite heavily, two dreadnaughts were now scorched with their shields depleted, one of them had a series of holes on the starboard, the interior and further of which were unknown due to interference. The group of cruisers had lost a quarter of their number to the missiles.

The ratio between number enemy ships lost to number of Terran ships involved was lower compared to Battle of Zhusanjiao, but it was mostly due to external conditions. The 27th Destroyer Division was fully equipped with nuclear missiles, every single missile pod was stacked with nuclear weaponry, not to mention their modification, giving extra electronic combat power. While the changes were not made with the Turians in mind originally, those tools still work nonetheless, giving a serious and brilliant lopsided battle. Three destroyers lost and one moderately damaged were exchanged for five enemy "cruisers" and twenty-four "frigates". Fairly acceptable results, but it would be meaningless in the end if the Turian could recover at a faster rate and a lower price compared to the humans.

Admiral Sodhi set his gaze on the schematic. Two cruiser squadrons and three destroyer squadrons were actively joining in the combat, and his carrier group was just half an hour away at standard cruising speed to assist. The exchange so far was still within the human's favor, but there was no guarantee that it would continue like that. Still, it was his job to lead this battle and win.

Or die trying.

Next was a lull in the heat of the battle, barely a few minutes of absolute silence. A civilian, or a "normal person", could never understand how frightening it was. The enemy was in the sight of the Terran, yes, but it also meant the reverse, the humans were in the sight of the Turian. Sure, the electronic warfare and the nuclear residue were blocking the alien's sight and sensor, but that was what the humans thought, there was simply no concrete proof to prove it. The lack of incoming attack was not considered as evidence, because it might be leading to the opposite: the aliens also had the ability to mask their attack just like the humans, if not better.

The alien ships were slowly recovering from the major mass attack, re-aligning themselves toward the directions of the Combat Group One and priming their weapons… and they just launch a salvo of slug at relativistic speed, causing the bridge officers of the Indominatus to yelp. Those aliens might be blinded, but they still had the ability to aim down range with optical sensor, which could not be fooled, so far. The Admiral failed think of anything else and had no choice but to watch the barrage of metal slugs surging toward Combat Group One. Luckily, only two destroyers and one cruiser were hit, all the remaining shots went wide, even the three unlucky ships only had to suffer minor damage as those shots were just grazing them. Sure, the momentum of the shots made them to change their orientation, but not as bad as the MAC shots.

"Admiral, I have the technical data of the landed shot. Do you require a report?"

The trustworthy AI Gabriel spoke up from the hologram next to the seat of the Admiral, attracting some of his attention. Nodding silently, he gave the AI permission to speak up and represent his finding.

"Admiral, the weapon's power matches up with the Codex we gained from the Quarian, minus a few minor differences. The ones landed their hit, highly likely by luck, are the frigates, light and fast combatants of the hostile fleet. They have roughly one fifth of our L-MAC power and about for thousandths of its momentum. The speed of the slug, however, is relativistic, at 0.5% of light speed."

"What about their cruisers and dreadnaughts?"

"Their cruisers had about 65% of our cruiser MAC firepower, about 39 megaton of TNT and nine thousandths of the momentum, speed is 1.2% of light speed. Their dreadnaught, on the other hand, significant outpower us with a factor of 1.7 times, still, even with that, their momentum is just 1.7% of ours."

"It means that while the enemy has faster slugs, we have the heavier ones?"

"If you define heavier as more stopping power, then yes, much heavier, I might add. Admiral, the strike craft wings will arrive shortly, and the Combat Group One is priming for the second half of Alpha-One attack pattern."

"Understood."

The AI's hologram just nodded and bumped on his left chest. The human Admiral still had no idea why the AI picked the specific name of "Gabriel" and the appearance of a giant powered red and gold armor suit, decorated by various… religious symbols and something like a ring behind his head. He asked his officers once, and they just grinned like maniacs while saying they did not know the answer.

It remained a mystery to him until this day – at least that strange quirk of personality (given for every single AI so far) had not affected his performance, so he would let it slide away. Speaking about quirk, he had a nagging feeling that every single AI chose a certain appearance and name as if to "prank" humanity, one way or another. Hell, his son's AI showed up as a big-head bald grey alien with a very posh English accent, and no one found out why and how. At least, the quirky self-aware programs had helped humanity release a great deal of stress.

And the aliens would love to get rid of them, effectively massacre a full ethnic and have no remorse about it. While AIs were not "human" – not yet – every human considered them as a fully integrated part of the society, killing the AI would be no difference from killing a human, no matter how different the two processes were. The sheer prospect and possibility of that was enough to fuel various human officers to take up the weapons and fight.

However, he had to forcefully shove that tibid aside. The waves of strike crafts had finally arrived, splashing from the Turian fleet. Laser point-defense system sprung up again, and it appeared that the enemy also had their own fighter formation on board. However, as expected, the Turians had a much smaller number of strike crafts compared to the humans. In addition, from the Codex, it appeared that fighters were originally used as defensive units and not as attackers like the ones used by humanity. Well, courtesy of centuries of peace on the sea. The Admiral had no idea that if it was a curse or a blessing.

Still, if the Turian knew anything, it was computer firewall. Despite the fearsome electronics combat prowess of the Terran, they failed to penetrate and hack the enemy vessels. While blinding those ships was easy, even without nuclear ordnance, taking control of them was a much harder job, borderline impossible at the moment. The programming language was to foreign for the tech specialists to make heads or tails, and hack attempts would have to wait a while longer. For now, he was content with earning the stealth supremacy over the aliens. After all, one needed to see the enemy to shoot down.

The fighter waves, launched from the cruisers, had eighty strike crafts in total, sixty fighter escorts, ten bombers and a further ten bombers with nuclear ordnance. The X-shaped Starfurries, with their superior maneuverability, were sent first into the fray with the mission to thin out enemy defending fighters. A spectacular dance battle quickly erupted.

And Admiral Sodhi quickly realized that the bloody history of humanity was actually a blessing in disguise. For all the magic-tech of the Mass Effect, the Turian had neglected the prowess of missiles for long-range combat. While there was no obstacle between the two fighter wings, the distance was just too long for standard canons to be effective, therefore, the Turians held back their triggers, just to be slaughtered by a co-ordinated missile strike. Sixty missiles were launched and it quickly saw the demise of forty enemy planes, effectively wiping out the entire fighter group of the hostile fleet.

Total combat time was… ten seconds, if he was generous enough. The Admiral inhaled a deep breath. Humanity had a great chance to win. Those aliens did not realize the true power of strike crafts in naval warfare, and they would have to suffer for it.

Still, why was Gabriel mumbling "Suffer not the xeno, the mutant, the heretic."? Probably it was his personality quirk again.

The bombers quickly deployed their payload, missiles slammed on the vessels with shield depleted, quickly making new holes on their hulls. A few of those vessels suffered even worse fate as the missiles converged on a single point, enhancing the damage and quickly gutting two more ships, one frigate and one cruiser. The nuclear missiles swam together, gunning toward the two dreadnaughts. Further explosions were seen sparkling on them, inflicting further damage on the vessels. Meanwhile, the Starfurries began their strafing runs on other ships, decreasing the number of turrets to increase the success rate of future attack.

While the Terran only claimed five extra kills with the fighter waves, the result had been spectacular for them enough. After all, they had not even deployed their fighter mass out of the carrier groups, and they only used standard weapons so far. A mass and heavy deployment of a carrier group would be able to blunt a fleet like this in their attack charge. It was a pity that Admiral Sodhi had played a bit too conservatively here. His carrier group was put in heliocentric orbit in the middle of the system, between the dwarf star and the Mass Relay, right in front of the Asteroid belts (where two Combat Groups of his were hiding in). The long distance and the high inertia of the ships prevent him from charging forward, lest he could not turn back if caught in a surprise.

The strike crafts, after their attacks, were now returning to their vessels for re-arming and re-fueling. Luckily, even with the edge in maneuverability, the Mass Effect space ships still failed to catch up with the strike crafts' formation. Even then, the return trip of the strike crafts was covered with a barrage of L-MAC strike at half-charge and normal missile launches.

However, they were Turians, and if they were just half as good as the Codex made them, it had been troubling enough. The odds would be even more skewed because short of some drastic move, Admiral Shivam had no card left to play. Technically, he also had his carriers, but they were more like an amplifier of the just-now strike crafts attack and not a new attack vector. If the hostile commander was a smart and intelligent one, he would figure out a way to counter every sing attack the human had thrown at him.

Or he could just risk it and press forward, which would soon put Combat Group One under direct fire, especially when those Turian got out of the radiated space zone.

A new batch of data was transmitted, showing the Turian ships shifting their formation while pressing ahead. The analytic eyes of the human Admiral quickly worked together with the high processing of the AIs, and they realized that the Turians were as fearsome as they should be. The fleet, despite being battered and injured heavily, was still able to shuffle the strong and intact ships forward, covering the injured ones behind their back. The transition was not only smooth, but also quite fast, even under fire.

And then, the Turian struck back.

Instead of spreading the firepower, the Turian quickly focus every piece of electronic counter-measure they had on the cruiser _Krakow_ to pierce through the jamming blanket with brute force. Then, more than fifty vessels opened fire at a single time, striking true at the poor vessel. The ship quickly disappeared in a giant fireball, striking fear and dread into the heart of the human Admiral.

Sure, it was an overkill, both in preparation as well as execution. However, there was no such thing called "overkill", there was only "killed" and "not killed – yet". As long as the enemy went down, the way to make that happen might not be too important. After all, the humans had literally saturated the battle zone in Zhusanjiao system with nuclear fire, so accusing the Turian of "overkill" would be… hypocrisy.

Still, the shock of the _Krakow_ 's demise was just… too great. The Admiral stared blankly at the screen, unable to comprehend the feeling surging inside him. A full cruiser, with nearly four hundred fifty crewmembers, just… gone in a blink of an eye. Sure, he knew that the ship would be attacked when reports show that the enemy was focusing their counter-jamming on it. But there was no window saying that the blanket had been pierced through, there was no "lock" signal being spotted by the _Krakow_ …

Which meant the Turian had enough guts and skills to open fire with a partial lock. Hell, maybe there was not even a lock in the first place, they just had to gauge the orientation of the ship and fire in that direction. The whole idea just spelled out "trouble" for the human Admiral. However, he had no time to spend either in sorrow or hopelessness, a battle was raging on in front of his eyes. He had to win it first, then and only then, he would be allowed to shed a tear in silence.

The Turians learnt it fast, and they even applied it faster. And they would even the scored soon if the Terran commander did nothing, which further restricted him from dwelling into his own emotions. Sure, the numbers were still deeply in human's favour, but it would change soon enough. After all, the enemy still outnumbered them by a factor of two despite their horrendous loss. By the end of the day, number still mattered heavily. He had to make up for the change in tactical situation, or the Combat Group will suffer heavy damage, especially when they were stuck within the system to recover the launched strike crafts. He had to give some forms of orders, or the situation would continue to deteriorate.

The Turians were approaching, and they were gaining speed much quicker compared to the human. It was probably due to different nature of the vessel, the aliens had access to "magical goo", allowing them to alter mass and effectively reduce the threat of inertia. Meanwhile, the human did not find any meaningful deposit of Element Zero, forcing them to find their own inspiration to travel among the stars. It was slower than the "magical warp", both in FTL and sub-light speed, it also made the ships very bulky, heavy and immobile. And the black luck of lacking the Element Zero was coming back to haunt humanity.

Another salvo from the Turian fleet was launched, surprising the Admiral. It appeared that they not only had faster ship and faster slugs but also a higher rate of fire. It would be… troubling for the humans to deal with it. The humans had heavier-hitting rounds, yes, but the rounds were too slow and they could be evaded, especially if the ships were fast enough. The accuracy of the L-MAC was thanks to the blindness and temporary immobility of the Turian ships, and not due to its own capability.

This time, the destroyers of the 17th Destroyer Division, _Urakaze, Tanikaze,_ _Hamakaze_ and _Isokaze_ , were the ones falling behind. While none of them was destroyed in a flurry ball of fire, they were struck heavily and practically cripple. A chill ran down the spine of the Admiral, the enemy commander was too good. He only took a glance to have a gauge on the required firepower to destroy or damage an enemy vessel. Sure, it was inaccurate, but for a glance and on-the-spot improvisation? It was extremely lethal.

He needed to give that order, or… or it will be a strategically defeat.

However, in order to counter the maneuverability of the Turian ships, he had put the ships a bit too close to the Mass Relay. Closer and it would be counter-effective, further and his MACs would be unable to hit the targets. Normally, the MAC and missile barrage would be able to wear down the enemy, stopping them in their track. However, he did not think that the enemy would fight back with this many ships.

After all, their number was equivalent to a full naval fleet, and some. To fight back that number, he would need to focus the entire Task Force and committed his carriers to the fight. However, to fight fire with fire was not a brilliant idea, not to mention that it would be better to sap away enemy strength by attacking their supply convoy compare to fighting the enemy head-on.

Yet, for all the planning and preparation, the enemy simply struck back with the full might, it was as if using a sledgehammer to flatten an egg. It was totally overkill. However, it worked, and it worked with frightening result.

"What is the situation of the _Isokaze_ and _Hamakaze_? Are they mobile?"

"Yes sir! They lost their hull integrity and their MACs, but they are still mobile."

"Then the situation is still salvageable. Send the order to Combat Group One, tell them to fall back. Let the injured ships retreat first. Formation… Rasta-Six, destination: Relay 313. They are to jump back to Zhusanjiao and transfer all data gained within the battle here."

That drew the attention of the bridge crew, for good reasons actually. The most major of which was that, within the manual, there was a big red underlined phrase of "do not try this" right at the beginning. Instead of turning around and pull back the old fashioned way, the ships would use their MACs as "kick starter", basically use the Conservation of Momentum to start throwing themselves backward. To put it simply, they would turn off their stabilizing thrusters, use the momentum gained from the MAC launch to start moving backward. The movement, while preserving the orientation and weapon locked, was highly straining and posing a great risk of the ship's function.

However, there was no other option. If they turned around, it would take too much time, the time they needed to turn the ships would be sufficient for the Turians to close in, scoring extra hits as well as countering the electronics jamming of Terran Navy. Sure, closing the range would mean that the humans would have extra advantage. However, all of their hits were connected, rendering that point moot. In the end, the risk was not worth closing the gap or turning around. Cruising backward was the best option, especially when the last part of Rasta-Six was to execute a FTL jump, either intra- or inter-system.

"Understood, sir. Message sent away… Combat Group One has acknowledged via QEC."

Admiral Shivam Sodhi watched the screen again, showing the battle unfolding on the edge of the system. The human ships were charging their main guns, withering the focusing firepower of the Turian fleet. Some vessels launched their decoys or drones, further enhancing the electronics combat of the human fleet, blocking or at least tricking the gun's sight of the aliens, buying themselves a bit more time. Some missile pods were deployed, striking down the advancing Turian ships, forcing them to break contact so that their point defense system had a clear shot.

It was a close race, the Turian kept advancing and the humans kept pulling back. Normally, the humans could simply jump out with their FTL drive. However, for unknown reasons, Element Zero and/or Mass Relay interfered heavily with the human-made invention, not on the level of destruction, but more on the level of "shits going haywire", decreasing the accuracy of the jump. Someone had tried it before in Solar System, and the ship slam onto an asteroid instead of its intended location of one thousand kilometers away. At least it was a drone and the Mass Relay had a certain affected radius of roughly thirty minutes of cruising speed.

Translation to the situation: Combat Group One would have to moving backward for further fifteen minutes. Moving backward was the easy part, moving backward with Rasta-Six maneuver was… so-and-so, but moving backward with Rasta-Six maneuver under enemy fire and mounting loss was hard, especially if one wanted to limit casualty.

One cruiser had been destroyed, two destroyers had been damaged quite severely, and the only thing kept them from being torn apart was that every human was a follower of Murphy. Those ships were built with the prospect of being shot to pieces in mind, therefore, the manufacturers boasted that they could lose up to half of their hull and still able to limp back to safety, as long as they did not lose the engine, the reactors and the FTL-drive, of course.

That line was being tested heavily at the moment. The fire of the Turian fleet was unrelenting, both their main guns and their disruptor torpedoes continuously barked out, forcing the jammers and the interceptors to function at maximum capacity. The fighters could not be deployed, there was simply not enough time to retrieve them afterward, hence, Combat Group One had no choice but to passively block off the blue-purple sparkling orbs.

While no more ship was lost on either side, each ship was showing signs of battle. DESDIV17 had their frontal sensor arrays damaged and their L-MAC barrels overheated, all four of them. Cruisers _Berlin_ , _Konigsberg_ and _Munchen_ had emptied their missile pods, and before they have a chance to reload, a spread of torpedoes had struck on those very empty positions, making them unable to launch anymore. In addition, 21st Destroyer Division was also reporting on technical issues on internal linkage, not on the red light yet, but showing certain level of concern. If those problems were not fixed soon, the result would be catastrophic.

Despite the deteriorating situation, Admiral Sodhi did not give any specific orders to each individual ship, he believed in the skills of frontline commanders there. In addition, Commodore Richard Jenkins was more than enough for the task. The man was known for his polished work, even if it was a bit unimaginative. As long as a clear and concise order was given along with a clear list of tools, he would be able to carry out the order, which was exactly what he was doing at the moment.

The odds were still in humanity's favour, but the enemy had been able to learn how to counter it. In combination with the focus strength and number of the enemy, it would be better for them to pull back temporary, regrouping and re-strengthening themselves, preparing for the next battle.

Moments passed by, minutes by minutes, seconds by seconds. Each moment felt like a mountain pressing down on the Terran shoulders. The skills and determinations of the two sides were being tested to the extreme limit. The Turian commander continuously shifted his formation, putting the well-armored ships at the front, followed immediately by the moderately-protected, while the fast-movers splitting up, moving above and below the combat plane, attempting a flank. However, Commodore Jenkins was able to hold them at bay. The cruisers continuously launched their magnetically accelerated and used the recoil to shift back while the destroyers blanketed the advances of hostile frigates with saturated missile launches.

Explosions filled the space between the two fleets. Dashing among them were invisible projectiles, be it the fast and nimble shots of the Turian, or the slow and heavy hitting shells of the Humans. The slugs generally struck on their intended target, not enough to remove them from equation, but definitely sufficient to damage the vessels. That line was correct for both sides, especially for the Terran. Due to the relativistic speed of the Turian slugs, the human ships barely had the time to detect the incoming strikes, and even if they could, dodging or intercepting them was too much of a challenge.

Reports of casualty were flooding in. _Berlin_ had half of her capacitor damaged, leading to her inability to shoot at more than 40% charge, _Voi_ was damaged with her engine room suffered damage, only working at 50% output at the moment. The destroyers _Hatsuharu_ , _Yukikaze, Hatsukaze_ and _Tokitsukaze_ were reporting damage in their engines, thruster and array sensors. Those were just the damage his eyes noticed on the growing list of damage.

In short, there was no ship in the human's fleet that was free from being attack. Three destroyer squadrons and two cruiser squadrons, twenty-four and eight ships respectively, had to fight an enemy three times their number. It was a hard fight, and such a level of damage was unavoidable. Even if the rational part of the Admiral was saying that, the emotional part of his could not catch up with the idea. This was the first time the Navy suffered this kind of staggering loss and damage.

No one gained a clear upper-hand in the engagement. However, that was not important, the crucial part was the Terran ships were slowing getting out of the red zone, inflicted by the Mass Relay. There was only two minutes left at this rate. They had already activated their thrusters and engines to re-gain their forward velocity, preparing for the FTL jump. To cover the engines' function, they pressed up the power of the jammers and launched extra projectiles and missiles, aiming to fool the enemy for a few more moments.

The Turian fleets, however, they smelled blood even when they were blind. The ships surged forward, attempting to catch their enemy in a cross-fire. It was a sounded plan, especially based on the scientific knowledge of the Element Zero FTL method. The problem was that the humans had none of the eezo on board, allowing them to circumvent the problem. The Terran Federation simply utilized that piece of knowledge the moment they cleared out the red zone. It was the time to cut the loss and make a tactical retreat.

A swirling pool of "blue-ish energy" opened in front of each ship in Combat Group One, though its description might be a bit mis-leading. The phrase "portal" may be a better image, however, it was wrong in a manner of scientific speaking, because it was not connecting two position in space together, but rather it opened the way into seven-dimension space with pure energy input. At least, not many people in the Navy paid attention to such small details, they just called it a portal for the sake convenience.

Then, as quick as the portals appeared, the Terran ships zipped into them, quickly closing them once the ships had traveled through. In less than ten seconds, the whole battlefield near the Mass Relay had nothing else but the Turian fleet being shocked into silence. Even though the visual had not arrived yet, the Admiral knew that Combat Group One had successfully transited themselves to the back end of the system, where Mass Relay 313 was preparing to warp them back to Zhusanjiao system.

The battle here was a close call. Well, as much as a close call as some hypocrisy could call it. The Turian lost too many ships here. Forty frigates were destroyer, twenty-five suffered high degree of damage, twenty more, while still combat capable, saw their hulls punctured and the remaining eighteen were lucky to see their hulls scorched and burnt. The cruisers detachment fared little better, from the original roster of forty ships, twenty ships were cripple, including ten were completely destroyed, the remainder saw various degree of damage. Meanwhile, the two dreadnaughts, despite having their shields and laser defense depleted and destroyed, despite having their hulls being turned into a beehive, were still dangerous warships. They were the ones leading the charge, proving with their own actions that the humans were unable to drop them in a standard ship-to-ship battle.

The human Adimral grimaced. Sure, his fleet has a lower number of ships lost – just one ship destroyed. However, the remaining part of the Combat Group One would have to spend a lengthy time in dock, ranging anywhere between one week to one month. In other word, he lost twenty-five ships for up to a month, and one more permanently. The plan to wear down the Turians seemed to face heavy hardship right from the get go.

However, there was some silver lining of hope…

Reports about mines being used and activated quickly appeared on the main screen in the bridge of the Indominatus. Ah. Good, it meant that the Turians had just pushed forward and stepped right into the minefield dropped by Combat Group One. Of course they had to drop their mines on their way to retreat! After all, it was common tactical sense and standard doctrine of Rasta-Six maneuver.

The retreating army would leave behind some mines, nuclear and/or normal type, to slow down the advance to the enemy. It was unknown if the Turians were genre savvy enough to do that, but history of mankind had proven exactly how useful and powerful that tactic could be. Sure, unexploded ordnance would be a real headache after war, but it was someone else's business. Here, his job was to win, not to protect the environment or to clear the space debris.

It was a pity that he lacked eyes and ears over there, the empty region of space around the Mass Relay gave little room for ambush and drone deployment, effectively remove his option to see what the Turians were doing. However, it was not the important part. He had made them bleed and suffer for this empty region even before stepping into Terran Federation, and that was enough for this battle.

Besides, even if it was not enough, his real killing blow was still hiding themselves here, ready to prey on unsuspecting supply convoys or troop transportations, or better, to finish the job that their comrades in Combat Group One had begun.

The odds, as it seemed, were quite balance. As long as he could held out for three months or longer, the war economy of the Federation would be able to catch up with the fight, giving the humans an edge in materialistic terms. After all, a combination of well executed strategy and overwhelming number of tanks, ships and planes were what helped to win the Second and Third World War. Human knew exactly how to fight a war of attrition, hell, every single piece of knowledge they had was geared toward that end. After all, it was the easiest war strategy to fight, and it was just a matter of time before war dwelled into such a state.

"Estimated time before Combat Group One approach Mass Relay and finish transition?"

"One hour and fifteen minutes sir."

"And the estimated time for the Turian fleets to get in range to shoot us?"

"Forty-five minutes."

The deadpan of the AI quickly made the Admiral to grimace. From the technology intelligence gained from asking the Quarians (nicely, of course), he knew that the Turians could also execute in-system FTL movement, and they were not restricted by "red zone" of the Mass Relay. Sure, there were also some restrictions, but they were there, in case of someone stupid enough to FTL-jump onto the Relay and not because of technical limit.

Combat Group Two was caught in a tight situation. If they turned around and/or executed an in-system FTL jump, the Turians would have little trouble catching up to them, especially when they had no limits or restrictions while approaching a Mass Relay. It meant that they could catch both Combat Groups with the pants down, and maybe it was actually more literal than it sounded. Therefore, Combat Group Two had no other choice than holding the line, buying time for Combat Group One to escape. However, it also meant that they would have their own trouble while doing so. They would be locked into combat with Turian fleet, and when they retreat, they would suffer the same issues as Combat Group One. So…

"To Combat Group Two, this is Admiral Shivam Sodhi. Turn around toward the Mass Relay, standard cruising speed. _Indominatus_ , _Courage_ and _Spite_ , deploy the strike crafts with anti-ship profiles. We will make a fighting retreat here."

The idea was pretty simple: they would fight their way back to the Mass Relay. They had the lethal edge of strike craft formation and they knew the enemy would be unable to repel that attack without suffering heavy damage. Sure, the possibility to wipe out the Turian fleet was also pretty high, but he did not want to stay too long in the system – who knew when the enemy reinforcement would show up. Or worse, whether the enemy commander had any tricks left on his sleeve.

Retreating here would seem like a cowardice move, but from the Admiral's perspective, it was the efficient one, it allowed him to preserve the core fighting strength while inflicting serious damage on the enemy. In addition, making them bleed and extend themselves was still a part of the overall plan, so even if he was called a coward, it was a small price to pay.

The image on the screen was changing, showing the orientation of Combat Group Two shifting toward the Mass Relay. Around the capital ships, smaller dots were shown, representing the launched strike crafts. Unlike Combat Group One, the second group had dedicated carriers, allowing them to just mass deploy their wings, numbering at two hundred and thirty in total. They included one hundred for the Fleet Carrier Indominatus, and fifty each for Light Carriers Courage and Spite. The escorting section of five light cruisers and ten specialized destroyers contributed a further count of thirty interceptors.

That was a staggering number, but the question remained: was that enough to stop the Turian fleet?

It appeared that they were about to find out.


	10. Chapter 9

**Hello everyone. It is good to flush a new chapter within a single week. Well, I'm gonna go back home for Tet Holiday vacation. In case you are wondering what "Tet" mean, well, it's Lunar New Year Festival, held in Vietnam. Quite a fun and cheery time, or just simply to lay down on the bed and sleep one's arse off.**

 **Still, being home means under parent supervision, which sounds _very_ strange for a 21-and-a-half youth. However, just say it's my experience and intuition telling me that the freedom I once had while staying in the dorm would be severely reduced. The rate of update during the Holiday (about three weeks) would be very slow. My best guess is that I have a new chapter in the next two weeks or so...**

 **Yeah, definitely much slower than what I want.**

* * *

 **Reviews' respond**

 **EchoSentient:** Hate to break the news for you, but Putin the Tsar has not been deployed. Yet. All the nuclear deployed so far (including the liberal usage of 27th Destroyer Division in Chapter 6) is "only" within the kilo-ton range (up to 20 thousand tons of TNT to be specific), pretty "small". To put it in respective, it is roughly the same as "Fat Man", the nuclear bomb dropped in Nagasaki in 1945.

 **The-Black-Prince-Thomas:** Thank you, Battle-Brother, for realising the service of Chapter Master Gabriel Angelos. May the Emperor protect.

 **general-joseph-dickson:** Than you for your review

 **OMAC001:** Thank you for your comment. However, I must disappoint you. I do not expect ground-side combat on Shanxi within two chapters, namely this one and the one after. That is even assuming I do not decide to take a spin after three combat-extensive chapters to look at different involved personnel. Blame Gundam UC for that, I'm just hugely impressed with the War Drama of the series/universe

 **Watcher123:** You have basically told out my idea. Desolas, in this incarnation, would be something like Yang Wen-li in Shinji and Warhammer 40K (again, the man is a cameo to the _classic_ space opera anime Legends of Galactic Heroes). Physcially, he is just so and so, but his tactical and strategical prowess knew little boundary. The human admiral, meanwhile, is not as awe-inspiring, mostly because he is playing by the book. However, what set him apart from the other is that he has nukes, lots of them, and in certain scenarios, he appears to be the only sane man in the bridge. The Turian reinforcement would appear within... six or seven chapters (just three to five days in-universe). Then, _shit will hit the fan and blast through the roof_. Trust my words on that.

 **CReaper210:** Thank you for your review.

 **Pteaset:** Thank you for your wonderful storm of reviews.

 **And as usual, I have more than one reference and cameo being used here. Some are very clear and obvious, some are not. I wonder if you guys can spot them out.**

* * *

"They called me a hero, commander. Said that I singlehandedly changed the course of the war. But I'm no hero. I was, in hindsight, mostly just lucky. If someone told me that I would go on to have one of the most brilliant records of any ship in our navy's history, I'd have smiled and told him that was foolish talk. The Yorktown carriers were designed for the express purpose of fleet-based air operations. Of their merits and flaws, it has all been discussed ad nauseam. You know all of that already, commander. I see it in your eyes. You have something else you want to ask, don't you?"

\- CV-6 Enterprise, Yorktown-class carrier of [old] United States Navy, moe anthropomorphised in Pacific: Volume I.

* * *

 **Location:**  
Unnamed system  
Other side of Relay 313/314  
Under contest

 **Time:**  
08:03 - Terran standard time  
16 February 2201

The second phase of the Battle of… Uniform-Santa-6969 (boring name, really) began with some people could call "boredom". There was no great maneuver, there was no bright flash of light or death rays, and there were no streaks of plasma or any duel to death. There were just two fleets chasing each other, heading toward the Mass Relay 313. The gap was closing, but it was very slow, and there was no visible sign to show that the two fleets trying to change that. Well, for a civilian watching from afar or through a documentary at least. Combat Group Two was strained to its limit, trying to push itself toward the Mass Relay with sub-light engines. Short of blasting themselves forward with nuclear explosion or equivalent, they had already exhausted themselves of choices.

Hence, it led to a nerve-wrecking experience. Despite the boring and calm outward appearance, two fleets were trying their best to prepare for the battle to come. Even though they had less than an hour of combat against each other, they had already realized the prowess of the enemy. For many commanders, as much as they hated to acknowledge it, they knew that they had found their bane, their worthy opponent.

The jamming of Combat Group Two was constantly turned on, greatly enhanced compared to Combat Group One. However, while turning around, they made a small spike within the enemy' sensor readout. The Turian commander, either blessed by Lady Fortuna or Lord Kreig, or worse, both, was able to act on what little he had and spurred the whole fleet into a pursuing vector against Combat Group Two. The more terrible part was that the was able to co-ordinate a very short in-system jump, rated number three on the "Do not do" list of the Citadel Council. That, and he was able to field-patch his own ships while still sailing forward.

The entire aviation groups muttered curses under their breath. Being insane and reckless were their right and their alone. After all, it took certain… mental conditions to pilot a titanium coffin strapped with… a crap ton of guns, and missiles, and bombs, and nukes… In short, if the Naval ships believed in Macross Missile Massacre, then the Naval Aviation Corp was a follower of Moar Dakka Doctrine.

Eighty of the two hundred and thirty strike crafts deployed were F-302 "Starfurry", fighter configuration. Each of them was simply a rectangular-ish block of metal with four wings extending in an X-shape, each wing carried three vectored thruster in the end. With three possible exhaust directions on every thruster and an on-board computer to regulate the flow, the craft could achieve unparallel maneuverability. Simulation and field testing had proven that it could turn 180 degrees within the span of a few seconds, moving backward, downward or diagonally while keeping its original direction or its fire arc. Its mobility was backed up by the Moar Dakka doctrine. For close-range dogfight, each craft had four 25mm chainguns, mounted on the top and bottom of the fighter. To thicken the wall of fire, they could also pick a series of other projectile weapons, from simple machine guns, chain guns to gauss rapid-fire cannons or multi-barreled heavy machine guns. However, getting in a dogfight was a risky business, something about ammunition expenditure, the Aviation Corp mainly relied on their missiles. Up to eight missiles could be equipped on the Staffury's wings, and two to four more on either sides of the cockpit if the pilots forsake the additional guns.

The interesting part was that apart from the top and bottom chain guns, all other weapons were installed as external mod, both simplifying the manufacturing process and giving tactical flexibility to the pilots and commanders. Of course, for all of those thoughts, none of them was spared to make the controllers felt comfortable. All they had inside the cockpit as a cold hard seat made of steel and their own hard suit. At least the suit came up with their own… waste management function. If not, well, things would smell foully soon, literally.

Escorted by the Starfurry was her bastardised sister, however, no one spoke that directly to the pilot, for they always had a ton of "fuck you" in nuclear ordnance. Named Starwrath, designated as B-306, she was an up-armed version of the fighter. With the number of one hundred and thirty crafts, they were more than capable of living up to their name. While the Starwrath also shared the same hull as the Starfurry, she had the thrusters replaced by a more standard and simple version and most of her guns removed. However, to compensate for that, she had sixteen hardpoints in total, allowing her to carry enough to sink a full cruiser within a single salvo. Of course, her missiles needed to get through the point defense and the active jamming of her target first, but that was pretty much a given using common sense.

Their missile arsenal was also quite diversifying. Firstly, they had the Bowman, standard void-to-ship missile, a miniature variant of the ship-board Archer. The next name on the list was Crossbow, void-to-void missiles, equipped on the bombers as certain fuck you note to any fighter entering their range without stealth. Of course, they also had Dickery, nuclear missile fully reserved for ship killing and Echo, a seriously upscale anti-ship missile. The list could go on and on with more variants or modifications, but those were their standard ones.

Last but not least was dedicated electronic warfare, the Star Shadow, E-305. Following the same route of the old US of A in the late 20th and early 21st century, the craft was deployed to give extra jamming and stealth capability for the strike force, just in case the total blank out of the fighter and bomber screen and the carrier task force was… insufficient. Of course, it was mostly as an afterthought, but the Turian had already proven that they could brute force. Therefore, it never hurt to be prepared. Each craft was equipped with a package of sensor and electronics array, packed into giant disks installed on the top and the bottom. Not only that they would provide an extra layer of stealth and jamming but also new pair of eyes, picking up any straggler or something hidden. After all, it paid off to be prepared.

Two hundred and thirty strike crafts, eighty fighters, one hundred and thirty bomber and twenty electronics warfare planes, they were a real force to be reckon with in naval void combat. The human could probably scare the hell out of many people more, once they knew that the humans still had the reserves of strike crafts in their carriers. They were just careful, not revealing _all_ the cards in their hand while still lashing out with enough damage to cow the enemy into wrecks. Of course, the bloody past of what could _possibly_ happen when a carrier deployed its entire aviation formation was still fresh in their mind.

Time was ticking by, slowly and slowly. The relative velocity of the Turian fleet was increasing, but at a very slow rate. After all, even if they could speed up and easily overtake the Human fleet, they still need to consider their own inertia and other physical restraints. An acceleration going too fast (at multiple-G level) would see half of their crew turned into paste and the other getting high, both literally and figuratively. In addition, the gap between two fleets was too short for a FTL in-system movement. That had already taken the insanity called humanity into account. Well, insanity only, there was no desperation yet.

Watching the void through their cockpit, the pilots of the Aviation Corp stared in the general direction of the incoming Turian fleet. Their eyes failed to see the tiny specks of light among the vast sea of stars. However, they knew the ships were coming from that direction. Stress quickly began to blow on the pilot, but they were able to endure, after all, they had been put through the fly school. The weak and incompetent had been filtered out within three months of the course already. The ones graduated, well, they still needed a few more years of "intern" flying before earning a spot in the famed "Star" void crafts. While they may not be the cream of the crop for the entire humanity, they were definitely up to par for the job.

Still, no one knew why the human strike crafts had the "Star" in their names. Probably because the Lady of the designer carried the name "Hoshi", "star" in Japanese. And her jealousy and anger knew no bounds, seeing her kicking arse of a full ODST squad once.

At least, that was how urban legend of the Academy went.

The pilots were keeping calm and remaining in their position. Their discipline held, despite their nervousness. The amount of banter on the radio net was, surprisingly, closed to zero. It was plausible that they knew better than to babbling their mouth and had their positions locked by hostile anti-air. After all, Lord Murphy _always_ punished the stupid and the incompetent as punishment, and then He may turn his sight toward the ones snickering. It was always better not to tempt Him. After all, some USAF squadrons were annihilated in the opening phases of World War Three just because they were stupid enough to chit and chat while getting into another country's airspace.

The time passed by, each second felt agonizing due to the order of waiting and holding position. Many pilots could stand the heat of the battle, but for them, the worst part was not the fighting but the calm before the storm. The waiting was always the most terrible part of a war. Everyone knew the fire was coming, but no one knew precisely when, where and how. The sheer series of what-if questions in their minds was enough to break down lesser men. At least the service personnel of the Terran Federation had enough tempering to reign in their freight.

Then, the radio net crackled to life:

"This is Overlord, the enemy has broken into Yellow Zone, Sector 6. All sortie air units, proceed with Plane Apple One."

The moment of truth had finally arrived. A collective breath was drew by the pilots as well as their comrades on-board the capital ships.

Confirmations were given from the commanders, filtering out to each individual pilot. Instructions and targets were put up on their screens, highlighting which ships they need to blow up. Data on the suspected covering arc of point-defense weapons was also given, which did not really help, mostly because any pilot worth his (or her, thank you feminazi) salt knew that any CIWS would be able to cover every approaching vector on the ship. Still, the knowledge may help, someway, somehow.

Using the left hand to manipulate the touch screen, the Starfurries' pilots flared up their thrusters, launching their crafts ahead of the formation. The acceleration pushed them sunk into the chair, a slight, miniscule pressure was felt upon their chest but most of them quickly shrug off that feeling. Their jobs were to clear out any interceptors and to provide "distraction" against hostile defense system. On the good news, they only had to hold out for ten minutes or so. On the other hand, it was never a good idea to tempt Fate.

Still, it was their job, their mission, there was no way to change it. Therefore, the pilots just simply charged forward at full burn. The acceleration kept building up, giving the pilot the advantage in speed that they needed. The number rose steadily on the screens, first just 0.1G, then 0.5, 0.9, 1… it finally reached the safety limit at 5.5G and then leveled out. That was the acceleration equivalent to five-point-five times of the standard Earth's gravitation acceleration, about 54 meter per second-squared for the ones preferred numbers to physics convention.

The thrust was kept for a few seconds before finally turned off. The velocity obtained during the burnt out was kept due to the craft's inertia and the absence of force in the void environment. That was the opposite of atmospheric fighters and bombers, they needed to constantly fighting off their own weight (or Earth's gravity) by their own thrust and Bernoulli's Effect. For void strike craft, due to the absence of any meaning external forces applied on its body, it shall maintain its velocity until the first part changed. Also known as the law of interita, Newton's First Law ruled the basis of the standard aviation attack in the Terran Federation. All pilot learnt these in their compulsory university education. And all Asian learnt that in secondary school for fun and giggles.

So, yep, in your face, ChemiStore. Those freaking game designers should have spent more time in their Physics class.

The battered Turian fleet quickly appeared on the optical scopes of the human's fighters. Then, slowly, the keen eyes of the hunters were able to pick up the gleaming specks of light in the dark ambient background of space. Of course, the distance was still long compared to the "traditional" carrier battle on Earth, but with nothing between the two opposing sides, the ones with extremely good eyes could pick out the tiny "strange" dots in their sights.

That, and there was always a direct straight line connecting two sides in the void. On Earth, the curvature of the planet had already broken of the direct sight at the distance of roughly five kilometers (three miles for the burger lovers) for a man standing on the ground, and one of the top records was 520km (324 miles, same recipient as above) for a pilot in the U-2 spy plane. Yes, both Earth-chan and Earth were and are NOT flat! They are just Oblate spheroids!

In your face, flat-earthers!

The distance between two opposite formation quickly closed down due to the high relative velocity of one to the other. However, for a mundane civilian, the distance was still simply too far, but for the well-trained pilot, they knew that they had reached the "combat zone". The numbers showed up in the cockpit read out, showing the reducing distance between the fighter groups and the battered Turian fleet.

The pilots carrying their own (light) anti-ship missiles quickly let loose their payloads, lightening themselves to gain a small edge in void combat. The number of missile launched was small, miniscule, especially compared to the massacre launched by Combat Group One. How much did they launch? One thousand, two hundred and eighty for one launch, making it two thoudsand, five hundred and sixty in total. Yes, more than 2500 missiles launched in a single salvo. Welcome to the Federation babe.

Anyway, the attack of the fighters had a much smaller number, just one hundred or so. However, they were launched at a much closer range, and the acceleration of the thruster on top of the already high initial speed gave it quite an edge in approaching. It was estimated that its approaching velocity was three times that found on the ship-board missile. Half yield, the times the speed and a third profile, fighter-borne anti-ship missile was pretty scary. The enemy would not even se…

The laser from the Turian fleet lashed out, simply cutting through the blanket of missile, cutting off the lines of thoughts of the pilots. Their baser batteries simply pointed forward, shooting in the general direction of the attack (or the heat sources), or worse, they aimed down the barrel with the superior optical sensor. The number of missiles thinned down heavily, number at less than thirty now. However, the surviving thirty percent did its job beautifully, ramming themselves on the "cruisers". Interestingly enough, their shields were now non-existent, probably because their shield generators were too bang up for the job.

The frontal armors on four extra cruisers were stripped away, revealing the interior inside. One frigate and another cruiser, somehow, had the luck of a few missiles slamming right on their main gun port. What happened next was… spectacular. It was probably due to a missile or two had enough luck to travel into the barrel and detonate inside. In the end, implosions were seen, tearing apart the unlucky ships.

Encouraged by the success, the fighters quickly approached the Turian fleet and began their strafing runs. Their targets were the CIWS turrets installed on the enemy ships. While peashooter would be just… peashooter on the meter-thick armor plating, they would be sufficient against softer targets like sensor arrays, optical cameras or CIWS turrets. After all, giving them the same treatment of meter-thick armor would be not only expensive but also counter-productive. After all, a sensor could barely gathering information if it was hidden behind three meters of stalinium.

However, the idea was easier said than done. The enemy had definitely done something with their power system and their aviation unit. Sure, their fighters/interceptors still dropped like flies before causing considerable damage, but the part where they inflicted casualty on the about-eighty fighter group was terrible enough. They should not even have that kind of power. Hiding behind capital ships, using the ships' own signatures to fool the incoming fighters? Hell, they did not even linger around to fight, just shoot and scoot. Their accuracy was crap, sure, but they did not need to be accurate. Luring the Terran fighters into the range and sight of the laser batteries was enough.

The whole area around the Turian ships quickly became a field of chaos elements with human fighters dashing in and out, trying to get a lock on their Turian counterpart long enough for their missiles to reach the target. Eight out of ten times, they failed though, the enemy planes had higher speed, giving them the edge in initiating and finishing an engagement. In addition, this was the Turian home ground. They knew how their capital ships would be laying and where the turrets would be built, for the defending team, that was enough advantage in their deck card to fight.

A few Starfurries were lost to enemy fire, both by laser pulses and defending interceptors. Debris and wreckages splashed forward, they were almost oblivious to the damage and destruction to their original bodies. A few Starfurries were hit but a few stray bolts, however, and quickly showed their smokes and sparks on the bodies. They were given the order to retreat, a limping plane had little value in a fight. Of course, whether they could reach the safe ground of the carrier was another question. The enemy, if nothing else, was as vicious in fighting as humanity. That was something to say, considering that war had finally on-up mosquito in the list of most lethal reason to die.

Laser slashed out, aiming at the Starfurries. However, instead of the coherent and continuous beam like in previous fights, the batteries had already reverted to pulse mode, most likely to conserve their own power and heat capacity. It sounded stupid, because a constant beam would deal a greater amount of damage. However, it came with the condition that the batteries must be able to lock on the target, which was quite… impossible thanks to human's jamming. However, their fighter-based guns could still work just fine. Sure, they had to get within a few hundred meters to score a reliable kill, and the insane maneuverability of the Starfurries even made it harder. But they had the home field advantage and they could make their own killing fields. For that, they could give the human a bloody nose.

However, the loss of the Starfurries was well-justified, and they were not actually that bad. Sure, twenty percent loss, but only two planes were lost as "killed in combat", the remaining fourteen had to retreat to patch up their severe damage. The rest of the fighters also suffered various degree of damage, none critical, thankfully enough. Such a level of loss was still deemed "acceptable" in military expenditure. After all, it was not as bad as the one suffered by the Eighth US Air Group in World War Two.

In addition, the real showdown finally arrived. The full formation of one hundred and thirty bombers had finally reached the combat zone. Turian air defense was quickly overwhelmed. Sure, not as overwhelmed when they had 2500 passively jamming missiles gunning toward them, but just as terrible because every single strike craft had their own active jamming system. The range, in addition, was much closer. Not to mention that the missile density was also increased a few times, further straining the defensive system of the Turian.

The combined power of the Terran Navy was quickly show. The Starshadow targeted the sensor arrays of the Turian fleet, further blind and disrupted their sights. The accuracy of the laser turrets drop significantly, and short of a very close fly by (less than 1km), no Starfurry was threatened by them. The coordination with the interceptor was also severely damaged with them showing loss of cohesion and lack of aggressiveness. In the same time, unseen by naked eyes, more than five hundred missiles were concentrated into a single mass, gunning toward the Turian fleet.

The missiles, dedicated anti-armour and equipped with highly yielded ordnance, were extremely effective in battering down the Turian fleet. The two dreadnaughts got more of the exterior being forcefully tear away, the injured cruisers got explosions within their jax, a few frigates were sucker punched in their guts. The air strike of the Terran Navy, still undergoing, had robbed away ten more frigates and make sure eight more cruisers were incapable for combat. The dreadnaughts, however, were even stranger. By all account, they should not even be able to fly!

Their hulls were virtually torn away, leaving multiple sections of the interiors bared. Those areas, obviously, were hammered hard by strafing attacks of the human strike crafts. New information and orders were constantly shared on the net, analyzing the data to prepare for the second launch of the bomber formation. Then, it was given. Just like a wolf pack, every single craft of the Terran turned their sights and guns on a dreadnaught, planning to bring it down with combined concentrated firepower. Light missiles and chainguns sung up first, focusing on the exposed areas. Meanwhile, other fighters quickly turned on their laser designator, painting certain sections of the hull that needed to be brought down. The second salvo of the bombers, which accounted for nearly fifteen hundred missiles in total, peppered the dreadnaught hull, covering it in fire and explosion. They just launch the entire of the remaining payload, after all.

The dreadnaught, in typical big ships' fashion, went down in a series of implosions and explosions. Poor bastards.

The commanders pondered on the odds of fighting. Their ordnance had been spent, their crafts, while still functional and combat worthy, required maintenance. In addition, the enemy had been sufficiently battered. In total, the Turian had lost further one dreadnaught, six cruisers and ten frigates in this phase of the battle. In combination with the loss from previous fight, their lost was astronomical to say the least. Pressing onward with the current force would be foolish, they had already exhausted and battered. Ten Starfurries and ten Starwrath had been lost. It was miniscule compared to the Turian's, but still, each lost stung.

"This is Overlord. All units, Rasta – Tango – Bravo. Over."

Rasta – Tango – Bravo, RTB, Return to base. It was a simple phrase, but its power was not. The humans, knowing that they had earned the tactical victory, quickly retreated. Like a swarm of insects, the Starfurries and Starwrath glossed over the burning ships of the Turian, gunning as fast as they could to get back to their mothership. None of them lingered around, trying to score a few more lucky random hits on the failing ships. They did not even try to attack the combat capable ships neither, those ships, for unknown reasons, did not attempt any counter-attack. May be they could not, after all, the electronic warfare planes were still within the area, hidden from everyone's eyes.

For a few surviving Turian officers, they watched the scene directly with their own eyes through the exposed bridges. Through the hazy sparks of failed computers, through the void of space, they watched the sight with fear filling in their eyes. They failed to score any meaningful casualty on their enemy, yet, they suffered catastrophic loss on their own. One dreadnaught, sixteen cruisers and fifty frigates were destroyed completely, effectively a 50% rate casualty. The other half suffered various degrees of loss and injury.

To think, it was just a single battle…

What would happen next time?

* * *

 **Location:**  
Unnamed system  
Other side of Relay 313/314  
Under contest

 **Time:**  
2501 - 8th Month - 4th Day  
10:50

The atmosphere of the dreadnaught Hyperion was a somber one. Being the flagship of the responding fleet, she had to see and hear her sisters being gut or going down in flame. Normally, that would be standard for a normal space ship, considering their purpose: kill enemy vessels, or die trying. However, today was anything but normal. The fleet she headed was tasked with a policing mission against a former Citadel-affilianted race, a new alien race they initiated First Contact with and an illegally activated dormant Mass Relay. Sure, it was over simplifying, but it would suffice, for the sake of sanity.

But even then, it should be a fairly normal and easy job. Number for number and weight for weight, no race in the galaxy had enough power to take on any Turian task force, let alone win. Even in the off chance that they win, the probability for them to escape relatively unharmed was very small, borderline zero.

Then… today happened. Eight dreadnaughts and twelve cruisers of the enigma alien races faced off against two dreadnaughts, forty cruisers and one hundred frigates. Sure, they had the edge in dreadnaught counts, but it was still less than what the Krogan had in Battle of Septimus, which ended in Turian victory. Yet, for being outnumbered, they still slaughtered the Turian. Not killed, not destroyed, slaughtered. It was an outright slaughter!

Now, they only had a functional dreadnaught, fifteen combat-worthy cruisers and thirty-five frigates, only a third of the original fleet. To think it was the result of only TWO fights, both of them happened while the Turians were a little more than just being blind, mute and cripple. There sheer level of pragmatism and competency (translation: danger level) of the enemy was extremely visible, and the only thing kept most Turians from speaking it outright was their own rigid code of honor and pride. The one that just had been shattered in less than an hour of combat.

The casualty rate of the current task force was equivalently terrible, the list of intact personnel was much, much shorter than the ones who were not. Spirits, even if one could count the "scratched" and "bruised", they would only account for only one in every ten service personnel of the formation. The only saving grace was the relatively low loss on the ground force was zero, mostly because their transports were not included in the fight.

The young Turian officer grimaced when compiling the report. Even in the most curb stomp battle during naval training, his team only had to suffer a 20% casualty rate, death and incapacitated. Sure, the opponent was his trainers, they had the experience and the penchant for cramping their trainees, but they definitely only suffer an outnumbering ratio of one-to-two, and they did not have such… sadistic tendencies like the hoo-mans here. Who in their right minds would launch torpedoes as opening move? It was a waste of money and material due to the defensive GARDIAN laser system.

The question was debated heavily in the Academy, after all, even the worst GARDIAN operator was able to shoot down twenty incoming torpedoes before any of them get through his defence. The number for the best cadet was fluctuating between five hundred and five hundred thirty. No one would think that the way to counter that was pretty simple: throw up a few thousand missiles and blanket them in the deadliest jamming blanket the galaxy had ever seen. It may be wasteful, but the problem was that it worked, in a beautifully horrible way. Even the worst gunner could not be fault in that situation. And to think the one doing its worst was _Legion Legate_ Desolas Arterius himself… How was he able to advance on his career anyway?

… Right. By pulling out miracles from his proverbial backside. Evacuating over twenty thousand colonists to escape a pirate raid (which may or may not link to the Batarian Hegemony) which was swept under the rug a few days later. Then, during training, his varen pack frigates, somehow, was able to severely damage a dreadnaught with little loss of their own. Then not to mention a few narrow escapes against the pirates outnumbering him five to one. The only "loss" known to him, so far, was a somewhat protégé of his failed to capture a Quarian captain. The poor bastard lost his life even before joining this battle.

It may be a blessing in disguise. He did not have to see how the human simply tear apart a full Turian fleet with almost ease, nor the

Closing down the report on his omni-tool, the young (but competent) officer moved toward the office of _Legion Legatus_. As all other staff officers had been killed or incapacitated, he was the one next in line to temporary in charge of making the gist of the reports and statistic, turning meaningless rows of numbers into something more comprehensible. He was not sure if it was a good thing though, most of his friends were now in infirmary, and the part where his (former) superior stayed in was now vacuum.

Still, he had a job to do, a duty to fulfill. After and only after finishing it, he would have the right to shed them a tear or give them a toast, in silence. Such was a prize he had to pay as a Turian, a prize which he hopefully was worth everything. Their anthem was "Die for the Cause", but… when the entire team had died with a moment, no one could remember how they would sing the song. Being a young officer, however, he just hoped that the commander had something under his sleeve to save the whole fleet from annihilation.

He forgot one crucial note, though. Desolas Arterius was a highly competent banner officer, but his personality was quirky at best and contradicted to his own brilliance at worst. When he opened the door, the commander was tending to his aide's wounds while sparing occasional glances toward a omni-screen.

" _Tribuni Angusticalvii_ … Puvius Arterius?"

"Yes, sir. I'm here to deliver the statistic of the battle."

"Before you do that, just curious, is there any connection between you and Fatus Arterius?"

"No, but Pubius Arterius is my great-grandfather, sir. I believe that he is Fatus's younger brother."

"Correct, so it would put us… what, on the same level in the family tree?"

"Possibly, sir."

"OK, it is just my curiosity there. Obviously, I cannot promote you or give you any preference treatment here."

"Sir, with all due respect, I rise to this rank thanks to my competency, not having someone covering my butt."

The young officer flushed, anger swarming inside his mind. The leader of the fleet obviously had little tact or care about the… Hang on, why did the room look like it had been turned upside down a few times, then visited by a Krogan for "down time"? The whole furniture was crashed, crumbled into wreckage. The chairs and tables were nothing more than a mixture of scrap metals and cotton at this point. The ceiling was collapsed, turning the room from a box shape into an inverted V-shaped one. The lights were half dead at the moment, which meant that the room was relying more on the emergency light and the personal torches of the inhabitants than on the original lights of the room. The less talked about the walls and the floor, the better.

"Oh, yes, my room was given quite a re-design by the aliens. Humans, I believe, are how they call themselves."

Understatement of the century. It was like calling _Primus Pilus_ Sorus Vakarian "a bit over enthusiastic", the very one being called "Blood Boots" by the Batarian pirates.

Still, considering that the two commanders graduated from the same course, he should know better than assuming they were normal Turians.

The more pressing problem, however, was why the freaking commander of the fleet was bandaging for his aid himself? No medical specialists, no fancy technical equipments that may or may not exist. He just simply cleaned the wounds on the aid's head, then bandaged them over with a piece of cloth. Classic, yes, but it always worked. No, thinking about it, that was not the problem. The problems (yes, plural) were that, one, the aid was watching him with a critical pair of eyes while caressing her own sidearm (yes, she was a woman, and no, no one had seen her fighting before, not the ones alive and talkative, at least), and two, his distant-cousin was surprisingly gentle while taking care of his aid. Too gentle for a superior officer toward a subordinate of his, in fact.

"Sir, permission to speak freely, as a member of your extended family."

"Granted."

"Why don't you just marry her?"

"One, paperwork, two, it will be seen as a form of nepotism, three, she is the first-daughter of the Fifth Primach."

"What?"

"Still, I have already fucked her."

"What?"

"Three times per week, each time, well, all night long."

"What?"

"She has just promised to talk her father down when I ask for her hand in marriage after this… problem."

"What?"

"You are invited, if you want."

"What?"

"And I only tell you that because you are a part of my extended family."

The young officer quickly regretted asking. His commander, clearly, was not a sane and normal Turian. However, it was unknown whether despite of or because of his quirkiness that his orders were able to save a large number of lives. First was the order of sending the frigates through the Relay first instead of dreadnaughts and frigates. He suspected correctly about a planned minefield of the enemy, he just failed to consider the chance for the said minefield to be high-yield nuclear ordnance. To be fair, no one criticize him for that, after all, which race was stupid and insane enough to deploy hundreds of nuclear weapons on such a mass scale?

Right, the humans. They just proved it soon after that with their mass launch of missiles. Those were not nuclear, not all of them, at least. They mixed enough number of "normal" missile in the mix, using those as fodders against GARDIAN system to make sure the nuclear ones reached their marks. The Turian fleet was hit hard, very hard.

Only a handful of officers were able to shook their shocks and surprise away, _Legate_ Arterius was one of them. However, he was the only one able to act on his own plan, which gave the second precious order. Instead of relying on the battered frigate formations to remove (blindly) the hostile torpedoes/missiles wave, he switched to brute force of the dreadnaughts and cruisers, bringing them to the front line. It worked reasonably well enough.

The third order, strangely enough, was to attack, which went against all traditional tactics. However, the reason for that was pretty simple: the enemy lacked the speed and maneuverability to escape. It was proven right, again, as the enemy had to break off, moving backward while using their own counter-intertia of the main gun launches to escape. Sure, they escaped by using an unknown form of FTL (which involved a heavy dose of radiation and high fluctuation of graviton reading), but the lull in battle allowed the Turian to patch themselves a bit, preparing for yet another battle.

For the second battle, however, it just completely threw the doctrines, strategies and tactics refined by over a thousand years into the void. Every race knew the value of atmospheric strike crafts and their value in securing aerial superiority, supporting the ground forces. But there was no information suggesting the prowess in naval engagement, let alone void combat. The human, somehow, knew otherwise. They just deployed more than two hundred strike crafts, the number equal to the composition of nearly four fleets, and hit the Turian fleet hard. Very hard…

Even with putting the dreadnaughts in forward position, even with enveloping the above and bottom of the combat plane with varen packs of frigates, even with powering down the shields and other non-critical systems to divert the power to CIWS, the fleet had to watch the impossible: a Turian dreadnaught being killed in action.

The last time it happened was… Actually, no one quite knew if a Turian dreadnaught could be killed in the first place. Technically and theoretically, yes, every ship could be destroyed in combat. In reality, however, there was a major trouble in making it happen. Many had tried doing so, and none had succeeded in a thousand years. The humans? They showed up for less than a week a score it, while losing no capital ships in that particular engagement.

Shock and somber were probably the best the fleet could experience now. No one knew what to do, including the… love-struck commander. He just ordered the fleet to hold position and rescue to survivors of the killed ships while patching up the salvageable ones. In their numb, the fleet did just that.

The two… lovers seemed to be lost in their own worlds, or worst, with each other. The young male Turian just hoped that they were empathically talking to each other to find out a solution. If not… things would be very terrible.

"Actually, my cousin, we cannot talk empathically to each other. Despite all the rumors, that is still impossible for all known sentient and sapient races, let alone us."

"So… how did you two co-ordinate with each other on the bridge?"

"We trust each other, and we knew what the other would do."

"But how do you earn that ability, really?"

"Sing three Hails the Lord, eat my vitamins, have sex with this guy five times a day and fight until I no longer feel horny if I cannot. Spi~rits."

…

The one said that was the female aid. And she spoke it with a perfectly straight face and calm voice, which made the whole thing became even more ridiculous. The situation would be much more hilarious if it was not as dire. Both the two males were shocked by that statement, though in different ways. Desolas tried to keep himself calm, façade and not to grin, and fail miserably. His distant cousin, meanwhile, was wondering if and how he could make a brain bleach, Krogan-variant. He was not even sure if his sanity would be the same after this mission, to be honest.

"Any way, sir, ma'am. I'm here to deliver the report on our loss."

"Please, sum it up for me, as short as possible."

"… I can do that in a single word, but it will be very… unpleasant and impolite to speak with the presence of the lady. In other word, sir, our situation could be summed up in a very rude word."

"Oh… Understood."

It appeared that _Legatus_ Desolas had done bandaging his aid, because he finally patted her back and put the medical supplies away. He then sat on the… remaining of something resemble a chair and accepted the report, musing over the numbers. Meanwhile, his female aid stood diligently behind, waiting for any instructions… or she just proceeded to massage his shoulders. Huh? Was that not over-stepping the bound? Still, considering that they had already had sex with each other and publically acknowledged and confirmed that, it should not come as a surprise. Normally, such an information would make other raising their eyebrows, however, this was _Legion Legatus_ Desolas "The Miracle", no one would be crazy enough to criticize him. Sure, he lost half of the fleet, but considering the situation, it would be better to say he was able to save half of his fleet, or he "only" lost 50% of his force.

It definitely did not sound good at all.

"How are our men doing, _Tribuni Angusticalvii_ Puvius Arterius?"

"… Shock and sorrow, sir. But still combat able. The ones alive, that are."

"And the rest?"

"The injured and wounded are being recovered from the wreckage or being treated at the moment."

"Understood… Send them… my condolences and apologies."

"Yes sir…"

"What do you think about our enemy?"

"Sorry sir?"

"What do you think about them, the humans? The way the fight, their retreat, their attack… What do you think about them?"

"I'm not sure if I'm the best, sir. I'm more of an administrative officer than a combat one."

"And I fail half of my navy combat test in the Academy. Please, just tell me, there is simply no right or wrong. We are only speculating here."

Being encouraged by the words of his superior and the sincerity within, the young officer slowly shared his idea. However, his mood, still tainted by the heavy loss of the fleet, was a dark and desperate one. The enemy, somehow, despite their lack of Element Zero (yes, that was a fact, confirmed in triplicate) and their slumbering movement, was fearsome. It was as if they had spent the better part of their history trying to kill each other.

It sounded terribly wrong. The only race doing the same was the Krogan, and they had already destroyed themselves before reaching to the stars. There were also rumours about another race having the same characteristic, the said First Contact was botched by an Iron Age alien due to the aggressiveness. Sure, it was just guess work, but if it was true, well, things would go haywire very soon. An aggressive, combat-craze star-faring alien race would bring a lot of troubles, galactic genocide was one of them. The idea alone was able to make him getting into "panic mode" with the crow on his head vibrating slightly and the hand gestures becoming wildly with the passage of time. At least he was able to put the second under control quickly before losing his own speech coherence.

The speculations of the young officer were getting into the wild side now, but Desolas made no attempt to stop him. From his own experience, the ones with the least specialized training would be able to notice obvious and simple answers for many questions, up to and including a First Contact gone wrong. Besides, he was still massaged by his lover slash aid, and there was no need to stop it. The general order had been given out already, and there was no need for his own personal involvement. The only job left required his participation was to report to the superiors and the Primarchs about his (not so) legal mission. But even for it, he still needed to wait a while longer for the full list of reports to arrive.

Until then, he had nothing else to do but wait and try to kill the time. At least the young officer had been proving himself as frightening source of entertainment, not because he was a lunatic or anything of sort, but because Desolas himself was thinking the same. It was a pity that the young man had to leave, taking care of his own jobs – something about requisitioning radiators and capacitors for the GARDIAN. Talking (or rather, hearing him talk) had been rather fun.

The moment his distant-cousin disappeared after the door, however, Desolas turned his gaze into the corner and called out:

"Come out Saren, we need to talk about your brother's private issue."

His aid suddenly stiffened her body behind him, one of her hand trailed down on her thigh, preparing to pull out the sidearm. It was just an unconscious move, however, because she realized who this "Saren" was. In addition, the said figure also stepped into the light while decloaking himself, showing that he had no hostile intention.

The said Turian was no one other than _Optio_ Saren Arterius, younger brother of _Legion Legatus_ Desolas Arterius, and he was probably the only sane one in the room, sans his occasional brooding. Of course, no one would officially acknowledge or confirm it.

"Brother, how do you know?"

"I did not, you just do it for me."

"… Cheeky py'jack."

"From you, it is probably a compliment. What do you think sweetit?"

"He let loose a twelve-syllable curse last time with much more profanity, so… yes, sugar, it is probably a compliment."

"There is so much sweetness here that cancer is formed in my nose. Why don't you guys just marry each other?"

"Because you would be sad, missing my homecook sweet pie?"

"… I hate you."

Yeah, just sibling love together. Desolas missed time like this. Despite the constant swearing and sarcasm, Saren was actually a GHOST, special operative of the Turian Hierarchy. Spirits, he was also one of the youngest man of the force to boot. The battle here would be his real baptism by fire, unknown enemy, unknown intel and the only thing he had as back up was the navy in orbit, for a few days at least. He was also able to attract quite some female attention – of course, he had not realized it yet. Teasing him about it should be fun.

Saren quickly sat down in front of his brother, taking out a bottle on his belt. In respond, the elder brother brought out three glasses for Saren to fill up. Despite all murky details, the GHOST had already considered the aid as his sister-in-law, mostly because she was the only one able to keep his brother in check, and because she was the first one getting through that thick crown of Desolas.

The three of them silently raised a toast for the fallen, a tradition of the Arterius family, before pouring the first shot down the ground. They felt themselves as "undeserving" of the first shots, so to speak. After that, each of them was only allowed a single small sip, enough to feel bitter and spice, but also enough to stay awake and sober for the battle to come.

"Brother, so what do you think about our distant-cousin's idea?"

"I think that I should be the one asking that, considering that you are the commander."

"Well, just say I'm asking for a second opinion."

"… I'm praying that he is wrong."

"Same here. Though…"

Both Saren and the female aid eyed Desolas, who looked haunted, empty and afraid somehow. That was a new one, they had never, ever seen the man like that before. The man they knew was sarcastic, humorous and pretty much a genius despite his own insanity. Now, he had somehow turned into the totally opposite of what he was normally. If the battle was not enough to make them taste fear, this change should.

"… Though I'm an atheist."

Actually, scratch the last part, Desolas was still fine.


	11. Chapter 10

**Hello everyone! I'm back from the vacation of Tet Holiday. I wish everyone a very happy (lunar) new year, with success, love, harmony and luck!**

 **During the past three weeks, it is a pity that my writing rate was VERY slow. Hell, only a quarter of this chapter was written in that time. Yeah, very slow... This chapter is also slightly slow-paced (at least it felt like that). If you feel disappoint, I promise that the next one will see a lot of named characters being sent to hell.** **And a lot of explosions, classical human's Art and Science of War along with some colorful curses. Too bad that Desolas will not be present.**

* * *

 **Reviews' response**

 **Olav152:** Thanks for liking my incarnation of Desolas. He will be the living trope of Bunny Eared Lawyer of the Turian invasion force. Well, he and his aide/lover/girlfriend, though the latter is more... sanity-questionable. The bunch of somewhat-sane (sarcasm) engineers will play a role in the fic. But it will not be written in the next three or four chapters - and it will not be pretty. Expect half of them dead by the end of this fic (I've watched too much Russian war drama and Japanese war animes)

 **AdamZeeper:** Cái đó gọi là Đại học :) [This guy is surprised to know that I have three weeks off for Tet Holiday. Normally, it is only ten days to two weeks for students]

 **OMAC001:** To be fair, the Turians are also sentient and sapient beings. It is bounded to have certain similar features as our society - though whether they are the sane or crazy parts is another story.

 **general-joseph-dickson:** Thanks for your review.

 **Chornus1326:** Thanks liking my "new" Desolas. Regarding the miles and metric systems, well, it is an on-going joke online. The world is surprise to see that US keeps using the imperial system (with miles and pounds) - and the US just says that they are the only one who has sent men to the Moon. Well, that, and I'm a Vietnamese, I've never used Imperial units before (apart during fic-writing like this)

 **Guest:** Thanks for liking my fic and enjoying the last chapter. Well, this is a new chapter here. Hope you enjoy it.

 **Pteaset:** Thank you for your inspirational reviews.

* * *

"Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

\- Winston Churchill (1874 - 1965), Prime Minister, army officer and writer of the [former] United Kingdoms. Famous for his leadership of United Kingdom in World War Two.

* * *

 **Location:**  
Lagrangian point 4  
Zhusanjiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental  
Terran Federation

 **Time:**  
09:12 - Terran standard time  
21 February 2201

The Combat Group One and Two limped back to Zhusanjiao system. Their former was laced with injuries and traces of highly intense combat. While they only lost one of their number, they still had thirty one ships left. However, none of those thirty one ships had any capability in joining the fight for the next few days. Half of their number had more than a quarter of their hulls missing, and the other half had critical components being exposed to the void: bridges, engine rooms, reactor halls… In addition, all of them reported that most of their ordnance had been spent in the fight.

Combat Group Two showed no visible damage, but their Aviation Groups had been spooked. The enemy had already shown their ability to reconfigure themselves, to adapt on the fly and fight back. While the damage was negligible, the implication was heavy. With luck and time, such crude methods would be able to shatter the Terran Shield. After all, that was how many wars and battles were won: with crude methods, and sufficient time and luck.

Even with the presence of the _Anvil_ dry dock, replenishing the exhausted ships still took considerable time. In addition, the dry dock was actually rigged with explosive, just in case the enemy was able to jump in the system directly, or strong enough to blast away Combat Group One and Two of Insurance Task Force, or both. So far, it was not the case. However, none of the civilian and Quarian engineers was recalled. Instead, military engineers and mechanics were called up to fill in the spots.

Ships after ships, the injured vessels of the Task Force lined up to dock with _Anvil_ , patching themselves up for the next fight. Meanwhile, the more intact and in-shaped vessels remained behind, laying a minefield around the Mass Relay. They knew that the enemy knew they would do so, but they knew the Turian knew they knew… or something like that. Anyway, the base line was this: even if its presence was known, its purpose of delaying and damaging the enemy was still done. For the Terran Federation, it was enough.

The mood of everyone was strung up. They knew that the Turian was right after them, and the dino-birds only slowed down because they were not stupid enough to push on their luck, or simply because they lacked the number to try it. Luckily, there was a silver lining of hope. The drones left behind by the Task Force had sent regular reports through the Relay, utilizing the yet-analyzed form of FTL travel as the medium. As it turned out, the Turian had completely stopped in their pursuit and began fixing themselves up. It was good news for the rank and file men of the Terran Navy, giving them extra time to patch themselves up.

For the commanders, especially the ones high enough on the rank, that… carried certain heavy implications. Sure, they had the time to replenish their strength, but the same thing could be said about the dino-birds. It appeared that despite their relative small sizes, each vessel had a very high relative amount of logistic materials. Sure, the absolute amount shown was still much smaller compared to each Terran ship, but the ratio of estimated logistic tonnage to ship tonnage was… alarming, to say the least.

Roughly, each ship had enough material to patch themselves from "a beehive" to combat-capable-looking. In a more technical manner, they were able to recover more than a third of their armor plating. The number was not so impressing, considering that a Terran ship could lose up to three quarters of its armor and still live long enough to have them fixed. However, the part Turian ships did not need any dedicated docks or special structures was not only impressive, but also frightening. It seemed that the Turians were functioning in the same way as the Roman Army back on Earth – each soldier carried his own portion of food and drink, thus reducing the logistic strain of the supply corp.

Considering that Roman Empire was still one of the most kick-arse and long living Empire in the human's history, that was a real problem coming to think about it. The Turians simply proved it by their existence – they were the peacekeeper and police of the Galaxy for the last one thousand years. If they were not competent or wonderful like that, surely they were swept under the rug long ago already. After all, within five days, they were able to bring back all of their remaining heavy hitters to combat condition.

Five days passed under heavy atmosphere. Both sides were preparing for the impending fight. The Terran received extra ships, reinforcement in another word, increasing their number of warships, strike crafts and supply vessels. In the meantime, every non-combatant of Shanxi was evacuated, one way or another. On the ground, there were soldiers sent directly from Terran High Command, local Guardsmen being activated and militia being raised. For obvious reasons, only volunteers were accepted as militia, and the badges were only distributed if they met certain requirements, such as they really volunteered for the job and not being "shamed" into taking it, they had enough physical fitness or understanding of local terrains. The staggering loss of Vietnamese militia in the early days of World War Three proved why such criteria were needed on top of patriotism. They held the line, buying crucial times for the regular forces to drive into the flank and rear of the enemy – at the cost of 80% of their men killed, maimed, heavily wounded, captured or fled within five days of fighting.

Bunkers and tunnels were kept digging. The process began a few weeks after First Contact with the Quarians was kept in motion. The human's paranoia finally paid off with a tunnel system spanning under the entire capital city of Shanxi and connecting the nerve center to various small villages and towns spread around the globes. The structure, in theory, was capable of standing to a minor nuclear attack (humans' definition, at least) and holding up to ten thousand people with full rations for up to six months. An independent bunker system was also erected, covering critical traffic points and supply depots, each could support a platoon for a few weeks against CBRN (Chemical – Biological – Radioactive – Nuclear) threats.

Now, with all civilians evacuated, those defense systems were being used by the newly-christened "Healthcare" DCLXVI Corp under the command of Lieutenant General Jacob Williams. And yes, it was really named Healthcare, after the presence of Insurance Naval Task force (and to spite in the face of USNA politicians, who had yet to finish a universal healthcare program). The number 666 was chosen to number the formation because it sounded terribly similar to "sex – sex – sex" under heavily accented English. The High Command was just being themselves as usual, absolutely bonkers.

Such insanity was accepted, because they were competent and bright enough for the job. Eighty thousand personnel with various support units and local Guardsmen and Militia – that number was nothing to scoff at. In theory, they could send more, but the threat of orbital attack was a constant one, not to mention that putting all men on the ground was synonym to putting all eggs in a basket. Now, they had fifty thousand being garrisoned on the planet and ten thousand would act like a mobile quick respond force in the opening move of the attack. The remaining group of twenty thousand men consisted of Marine only, used as the final wave of in-system reinforcement or as boarders to capture enemy ships.

For five days, Naval ships were still under a constant fast-paced repair, but there was nothing they could do to fasten it up, short of using magic blue space babes. The enemy was coming, but at least they have mined the Mass Relay to block off a good portion of hostile fleet before them streaming through. The only thing they had left was to wait.

Admiral Shivam Sodhi was in constant contact with the Central High Command and his subordinates, planning out various simulations and war plans, trying to finalize all details of the defense plan. Five days, every man of the Insurance Task Force was put under heavy strain, even more than their graduation exam week. Everyone saw their mood getting worsened and grinded down.

Then, things turned worse. When the mark of the five days had passed, the signal of the drone was lost. Not by any technical failure or someone spilling coffee on the boards, but because it was attacked directly. A fighter wings approach the drone on high-velocity vector, they were not planning for any patrol or scouting, they had already known the presence of the drones via unknown means. It spelt disasters.

The whole formation of over ten drones was completely wiped out. Not even a single one was left behind. No one knew how the Turian was able to find them, a full score of Naval officers had already wet their pants, unable to answer the question.

The why was easy enough. The Turians were preparing for a counter-attack, possibly in a few days. It would be a sweet spot, between having the Terrans tired out and yet to recover while they would be in their best mental shape. In addition, it was plausible that they had reinforcement inbound, and it never hurted to blind the enemy's eye on that.

It was a tense time. Combat Group One was still in a bad shape, twenty three destroyers and eight cruisers came back through the Mass Relay with their bodies literally shot to hell and back, and now only fifteen destroyers and two cruisers were at combat acceptable level. The remaining was still waiting for their turn to be fixed. Even with the reinforcement, it seemed that there was no other option. The Terran would be unable to intercept the Turian with full force and have to rely on the minefield for that job.

They would stay near the dry dock and the Outpost to block the invasion force. On the bright side, the Mass Relay behind them led to a barren system, nothing but five giant rocks and a dying star. There was simply no other way to get out of here, short of FTL travelling to neighboring systems, one by one, and searching for any human's installations by hand. Best case scenario, it would take the Turian two weeks to find the nearest one, more than enough for the human to plug in the hole if their line of defence was broken here.

That was part of the reason why they decided to make a stand here. There was simply no way that the Turian could drive into the heart of Terran Federation in a short period of time.

Five days had passed since the last engagement. Now, with their drones silenced, they stood ready for the upcoming fight.

The Mass Relay flashed, its signal was collected by a drone groups, then encrypted and sent via FTL communication toward Task Force Insurance. The computers quickly decrypted it and turned into human-friendly data. The Turians had arrived.

The first wave comprised of twenty ships and still rising, classified as Turian frigates. The order to detonate any mines was held, waiting the moment the number of enemy ships had reached a certain threshold. The first part was well enough, enemy ships keep pouring out of the Mass Relay, en mass. However, the drones, with their enhanced sensors and dedicated computer programs, quickly found out a problem. All Turian ships were damaged, and a brief scan show a "highly likely" chance that they were the ones joined in the last fight.

The Terrans were puzzled at first. Sure, in video games, one would send forth his weakest and most damaged units to absorb the defense fire. However, video games were vastly different from real life, no matter how much effort was bump in to make it so. Sending men (and women) to die in wave like that was not only stupid, but also heartless. That was not to even mention the inefficiency of the practice and the political quagmire after that.

Sure, technically, if the enemy had a slave caste, too many mouths to feed or a fuck-it-all attitude, they may throw their men blindly. It would be a terrible fate for mankind, but in the end, it would still be their job to find it out, confirm it and battle against it – nothing changed in the first place. In addition, the actions of the commander and the Codex had already disproved that idea. The Turian armed force was a conscription-based one, with a high chance to go career and many competent commanders. Sending ships in wave like this was not encouraged…

Then, if such was the case, the question remained: Why? The bridge officers of the _Indominatus_ were quiet, trying to figure out the enemy plan. They kept staring at the read-outs from the drones, looking for a pattern in the hostile action. Then, the moment when a hundred frigates had passed through the Relay, all of them lit up the space.

In synch, the ships at the head of the formation blew themselves up, pushing the mines away deactivating and detonating others. Behind them, the remaining ships opened fire with their laser turrets, cutting through the death trap. Then, the moment they surged through the explosions, they went up in flame again, destroying more mines in the process. One ship could do little, but when a hundred ships did that, well, it worked in a brutally efficient manner.

The minefield was neutralized completely. Well, some were detonated, but against potentially unmanned ships? They were just useless, or at least not as useful as the humans wanted them to be. They were wasted, not being able to kill or destroy any enemy lives. At least the Turians would not have to worry about fixing those one hundred ships, they simply borrow the Terran nukes – free of charge.

Fire ships tactics. One of the oldest trick in the Art and Science of War, back in the day where humans had yet to venture to the ocean and only fought on the rivers. It was an easy-to-make trick, cost-efficient and highly deadly when used correctly. The Turians may have different names and terms to label it, but the idea was the same, they just turned one of the classic tactics of humanity against them.

They gave away more than seventy heavily-damaged ships to clear way for the main thrust, effectively gain the initiative and upper hand in mobility and number. They had the choice on when and how to deploy, and the Terran had little to none ability to effectively counter that. The odds had shifted towards the Turians already – and that was even before the fight and before taking into account the possibility of alien reinforcement.

The only saving grace was that the drones were still intact, still transmitting the image and signal from the Mass Relay area with FTL communication. However, for fifteen minutes, apart from radiation dying out and ship wrecks drifting away, there was nothing happening. That was another issue: the Turians had already found a simple solution to counter the effect of radiation killing their sensors. They simply had to move in later, when sufficient amount of radiation had already died out. The best solution was the simplest one – it seemed that the Turian commander liked that as well.

Admiral Shivam Sodhi kept his finger crossed, hoping that guy was an exception and not the rule, or he was being sane, for that matter.

Fifteen minutes passed away, every sailors and officers drew their breath. Hurry up and wait was their mondus operandi. They saw the minefield being disabled within a few short minutes, the whole area was lit up with explosions, flashes and enough gamma ray to make a new legion of the Incredible Hulks. The red alert was given out, brining everyone from dozing off state to wide alert in a few seconds, then full combat readiness in less than five minutes. Then, nothing happened, not much, at least. Everyone was strained, mentally and physically, but they still had to remain in their post, even if all they were allowed to do was to stare blankly at the screens and walls. Well, Terran Navy for one.

Then, at the mark of fifteen minutes, the drones noticed the first flash of ship transport. Then another, two more, four, six… The number kept rising and rising. The sheer count alone was able to make everyone gawk in ridiculous, it seemed that the Turians had finally done playing games and brought out the hammer.

Five "dreadnaughts" were transitioned first, leading the pack and blasting their defense laser to clear out the immediate vicinity. Then, a massive weight of more than one hundred and fifty "cruisers" appeared in the system. Last but not least, five hundred "frigates" appeared, covering the flanks of the armada. More than six hundred ships, in total. Nearly five time worth of the original fleet in the last battle.

Then… five fleets in total? Against that number, the Terran had eight cruisers at 80% efficiency, twenty destroyers at 70% efficiency and three more at 50%. Luckily, fresh reinforcement of eight destroyers, four standard cruisers and four specialized cruisers gave them some room to fall back. The addition seemed to be spot-on, delivering critical fire support for Insurance Task Force. But even then, with the new ships, they were still outnumbered by a factor of thirteen, completely overshadow the factor of four in the previous engagement.

A factor of four means a closed win for the Terran, but a factor of thirteen would see their deaths.

On the deck of _Indominatus_ , the AI Gabriel Angelos made some quick calculation and got a 80% casualty rate in the battle, assuming the Terran planned a "No surrender and no retreat". If they prolonged the fight to FTL out of the system, the number was "just" 50%. They sounded severe, but everyone knew the risk, they had volunteered for this job, which meant that they had already accepted the possibility that they may have died some day in combat.

If death was the price to pay to keep their friends, their families and their homes safe, well, that was a price they were willing to pay.

Everyone's eyes were glued to the screens, watching every move of the Turian fleet. With that knowledge, no one was caught surprise when they executed an in-system FTL movement to move past a few astronomical units in a blink of an eye.

The Turian fleet jumped out, distancing themselves a few thousand kilometers away, right into the range of both sides. The void between the two stayed silent for a few tens of seconds, with both sides trying to lock down the hostile and keep the enemy from doing so. The humans had the edge in experience and equipment quality, but their enemy had the edge in number. Quantity had its own quality, that chilling line was never truer than now.

The Insurance Task Force positioned themselves at Lagrange point 4, or L4. They needed a position to evac and field-repair their ships, but they also wanted to make sure that Shanxi was not hit by any main gun attack, lest a calamity happened. Then, with the presence of a dry dock at the said position, the site for the planned stand had been prepared already. They just stood there motionless, watching and staring down the Turian drawing a bead on them.

The two sides opened fire in the same time. The Turian combined armada let loose a full torrent of kinetic strike packages, highly likely as a cover for their slower but much more deadly disruptor torpedoes. On the other side, centered on Outpost Hotel-Omega 29, the Terran responded with a mass missile launch. More than three thousand missiles were launched in the first strike, and it was quickly backed up with the same amount in the second, barely two seconds between the two.

The No man void between the two fleets was quickly heat up, the sheer ambient signal and reading from the weapon launches was enough for both sides to gain a partial lock on each other. It worked out better for the Terran as they could correct the flight path of their missiles, but those took time to arrive at their targets. On the other hand, the main guns of the Turian only took a fraction of that time to hit on the Terrans.

Slugs of metal slide through the ship screen, forcing many Terran ships to relocate to avoid being hit. A few ships were not very lucky, suffering glancing hits over the length of their hulls. The _Dnieper_ lost all of its missile pods on the top and the _Krakow_ suffered failure in its side thrusters. Various types of breakdowns were observed and suffered on other ships. Luckily, none of the problem was critical.

However, it was only the first strike, coming from the mid-weight and light-weight ships. They were meant as gauging shots rather than outright lethal packages. The dreadnaughts, seemingly equipped with the best arrays of sensors, made the final adjustments, then let loose their fully charged attacks. Five metal slugs were launched at relativistic speed… and all of them struck on their targets. Five cruisers of in the formation were hit, and they quickly erupted in fiery explosions. The balls of fire illuminated a corner of space, before quickly dying away. The scores was 5 – 0, in the favours of the Turians.

To retaliate, the Insurance Task Force returned fire with their MAC strikes, focusing on those five dreadnaughts. Those were the most dangerous ships, due to their potential damage as well as their ability to counter-electronic-warfare. However, the Turians were well aware of that, and using the fact that the payloads of the humans were much slower, they could attempt to evade or intercept the strikes.

Easier said than done, of course. The mass and concentrated attack arrived in the same time with Time on Target control, giving the highest level of carnage and destruction possible. Not many sane commanders would dare to put themselves in harm's way, especially when they knew very well about the stopping power of the MAC payloads. Besides, even with the speed of "just" 50km/s, detecting an incoming strike in the vastness of space and responding in time were hard jobs.

The first two dreadnaughts were struck, their shields were completely removed, exposing their own hulls for the next strikes. The following slugs slammed on their frontal hulls, visibly turning them away. Lights flickered on those ships, explosions could be seen dotted on the hulls, and their frontal sides were very similar to the beautiful landscape on Tuchanka. The next three dreadnaughts were much luckier. Not all shots connected on their barriers, and the ones landed only caused glancing hits. In addition, the remainders only hit on escorting cruisers and frigates. Sure, the small ships were destroyed, but the Turians had enough number for replacement.

Then, the missile barrage arrived from an elevated angle to the Turian fleet, plus 60 degrees to be exact. Like the previous engagement, the Eezo-ships prove capable in stopping a full swarm of missiles, even if they had to rely on brute force and number to deal with the job. After all, six hundred ships meant that they carried enough closed range defense turrets to blast through any missile swarm they knew of.

The ones they knew of was the key part. And the Terran missile swarm was not alike to anything they knew. Who in the right mind would give their missile stealth powers? Anti-radar, anti-Infrared, anti-UV and even anti-electronic takeover features were standard on any space-borne missiles launched from the Terran line. Only a species knew nothing but war could do that. And which one was crazy and resilient enough to live and thrive in war apart from the Krogan?

Due to the high number of missile and the low efficiency, the Turians had to alternate between their turrets. One would open fire when another rest for cool down and the like. However, the sheer number of the missiles – more than three thousand of them – gave the aliens quite a challenge. Sensing no other option, Turian captains gave the order for their ship to rotate around their longitudinal axis, bringing the GARDIAN turrets on their belly to bear. However, it played straight into the Terran's playbook. Why?

The Turians would have an answer when they re-watched the feed: the humans. Because when they were busy focus fire on the first missile barrage, a second wave had already approached from the other side, negative 80 degree elevation. These missiles revealed themselves in the final boost toward targets much later that the first barrage, catching the Turians by surprise. Coupled with the fact that most turrets pointing toward them were still in recommended cool down mode, they arrived relatively unharmed.

Another three thousand missiles, all of them dedicated anti-ship for space warfare, was a real might. Spreading them out to hit all six hundred ships was stupid, so the Terran Admiral did the sensible job: focus fire. The dreadnaughts, no matter their shape and status, were tagged with no less than thirty. Cruisers were slotted with fifteen and the remainder, if any, was tagged with a Wolf pack program, gunning toward any available targets.

The result was satisfying to say the least. Half of the cruiser force was damaged, all dreadnaughts were hit, and the frigates may have fried their circuits while overloading the control on the laser turrets. The momentum of the Turian force was stalled for a brief moment, as if the humans were laughing in the face of Fate and Death.

However, their enemy became Galaxy peacekeeper for a reason. They quickly recovered and re-organised themselves. The more intact ships moved forward, covering their wounded comrades. Fields of fire were deployed, overlapping each other to gain the maximum coverage against the remaining missiles. In addition, while they were still doing so, the Turian remained moving forward to the dry dock and countered with a mass kinetic strike.

The weapon officers of the Terran ships quickly noticed a problem: the launch of Turian disruptor torpedoes had already arrived. Intercepting them would be easy, but doing so while watching out for the deliveries of the Turian ships was not. In addition, while the Turian armada was hit, they was only scratched and bled. Wounded, but not incapacitated. Therefore, their barrage still had the same mass at the first time.

Moreover, it seemed that the dino-birds had already figured out the critical weakness of the humans. Their ships were unable to make fast and rapid maneuvering in a short moment. It meant that compared to the last time, the Turians did not have to do any harsh re-calculations, they only need to take more accurate readings.

This time, the humans suffered heavy damage. The accuracy of the shots were still low, barely 20%, but 20% of 600 was 120, and the humans only had less than 50 ships. Four destroyers and two more cruisers were wiped off the map, the still-wounded destroyers quickly showed the gravity of their injuries, and all captains were shouting, even if their microphones were working normally. Casualty reports started filling in the console of the Admiral, men and ship… Biting down a curse, he checked the situation. The Turian were still moving in, it would not take long before they could brute-force through the electronic blanket with sheer number and power. Combined with their rate of two shots per minute at full charge, he knew that they could win the battle…

Sure, they would suffer heavily, but they would still be the winner in the end. Heck, they could do that when they outnumbered him four to one already. With the factor of thirteen? Well, he was more surprised that he could hold out for this long.

Sacrificing good men for a glory last stand would be stupid, but retreating at once would be a crippling blow to moral. In other words… a fighting retreat movement. Scenario Delta-Five then. At least it was not Foxtrot level yet. The play book of Terran armed forces had an unofficial scenario naming, from Alpha "all is good" to Foxtrot "fucked up beyond any recognizable". And yes, it could have turned for worse, something like a massive fleet outnumbering his Task Force by a factor of 50 in Echo-Four or a Apocalypse device in Foxtrot-Ten.

All strike crafts were given order to launch. Luckily, all carriers were positioned behind a screening formation, protecting them from battle damage so far. The _Indominatus, Courage_ and _Spite_ let loose their strike wings. This time, the entire wings were launched, not a single strike craft was spared. The humans needed the shock value and extra jamming to cover their retreat. After all, they would be turning around and igniting their engines, exposing themselves to gun fire.

But leaving without giving any parting gifts would be rude, very rude. The Admiral's mother had already drilled it into his head when he was much younger, so he decided to give it to the Turian. As usual, it was a combination of missile launches and MAC packages. However, the difference was that he called up the pair of missile cruisers for the job.

"Weapon free" was his message to the ship, and they quickly obliged by launching over a thousand missiles, per ship. Combined with the organic missile pods on other ships, it was literally a Macross Missile Massacre, numbering well over four thousand units. The MAC packages were launched a moment later, estimations showed that they would arrive about sixty seconds before the missiles.

Fair enough. The order to turn around was given, but the Turians had already seen them doing so. A new barrage was sent, and this time, the Terran continued to suffer. Ships were struck mid-way through their turn. Destroyer _Truong Dao_ was struck in the middle of its side hull, the relativistic round cut a clean line through its body, leaving a giant hole behind. Her sisters, _Doan dao_ and _Nhi con khuc_ were struck by some hidden disruptor torpedoes and disappeared in giant balls of fire. Cruiser _Berlin_ and _Dnieper_ were hit on their engines, significantly lowering their speed and maneuverability.

The bridge of _Indominatus_ shook, courtesy of some light-weight hits coming from Turian frigates. While none of them was critical, they sure put the whole crew on edge, even more severe than normally. The Admiral, still secured in his strap seat and hard suit, spared a brief moment to glance up. His bridge crew was still operating efficiently, the Captain was sitting in the CIC (Combat Information Center), co-coordinating the attack of the strike crafts. Everyone felt the shots connected, but none abandoned their posts. For a crew in a First Contact War (and/or First Interstellar War – and he probably had just jinxed it), it was more than satisfactory.

With the spinal mounted MAC pointing away from the approaching Turian fleet, the humans had to rely on the missiles and strike crafts to deal the damage, which they did with extreme prejudge. Light-weight nuclear ordnance had been approved, and the Turian quickly get peppered by dozens of one-kiloton missiles. In retaliation, the aliens sent forth their frigates, which surged forward and released another volley of disruptor torpedoes.

The battle was slowly turning into a slug fest, with both sides chasing each other while sending their light-weight units to harass the enemy. It was nerve-straining, to say the least. Not many human ships were equipped with enough anti-ship weapons for close range fight, and the Turian ships were not designed to counter that many small fast-flying objects. On the other hand, the Turian frigates could not come in too close due to rapid-firing auto-cannon turrets dotting on the Terran ships. Each turret could puncture a hole on the kinetic barriers and severely damage the frigates hull, which forced them to constantly twisting, turning, and unable to cause any meaningful damage. The strike crafts, meanwhile, failed to penetrate the ring of fire from the Turian ships. It seemed that the aliens had decided not to aim accurately but only vaguely in the general direction. After all, throwing enough stones and one may hit something, and they did not really need to hit the strike crafts, simply keeping them away was a success already.

However, damage was still struck and dealt. The Terran lost an extra pair of cruisers, both of which suffered critical engine and reactor failures, forcing their crews to evacuate and land on other ships. That was not to mention other "not-so-critical" wounds on all other ships. The issue further slowed down the retreat process. Around them, however, were the husks of ten-odd Turian frigates and a few more seemingly intact ones. Those were the unlucky ones… Their comrades were attacked with light-weight nuclear weaponry. The close proximity and the nature of the attack were able to score a dozen more kills, including a mission-kill dreadnaught. The poor ship did not disappear in a nuclear fire, but with her engines turning off and her hulls punctured, she was pretty much neutralized.

Still, shot by shot, the Terran was suffering from heavy damage. Sixteen ships were killed in total, seven destroyers and nine cruisers, all of the remaining ships suffered various degree of damage, brining the approximate death count to the lower end of three thousands. That number was roughly a third of their number and about a fifth of their total power. To think that such carnage was handed in less than thirty minutes…

On the other side, the Turians had already lost more than thirty ships, including a mission-killed dreadnaught. While the number was still in the human's favour, that number was only 5% of their total force, and the remaining was hungry for pay back. The only thing stopped them from surging forward was, potentially, the carefulness of the Turian commander. After all, the humans were forced to retreat after losing a considerable number of their, but there was no guarantee that they would not leave any surprise there.

Or the aliens prefer capturing the dry dock (which would turn into an inferno soon), the space station outpost (welcome to CQB 101: Don't fuck it up) and the planet Shanxi itself (with a very warm reception party below).

The fighters on both sides were withdrawing, returning to their respective sides. Of course, the Starwraths and Starfurries also took some potshot at the retreating Turian frigates, who also gladly to return the favour. A brief but intense gun duel took place there, where both sides simply launched basic strafing runs, the ones that would result in catastrophic consequences. Nearly twenty Turian ships had new holes on them for ventilation, and a dozen of Terran strike crafts had to launch their hook to grab on the friendly ejected pilots.

Both sides decided it would be a terrible idea to keep lingering around, therefore, they quickly broke contact and vector away. The human pilots returned to their carriers and the frigates boosted toward the outpost Hotel-Omega. It appeared that they wanted to capture the space station intact, or with the Insurance Task Force being forced out of position, finally they could focus fire on it.

The whole crew of the Outpost had volunteered to remain in their posts, planning to gain extra intelligence at the final moments, giving the ground forces extra warnings. No matter how the Admiral tried, he could not convince them to rethink it, or rather, he could not make an effective counter-argument. In addition, even if he could, the possibility that the crew agreed to evacuate was slim to say the least.

While this was not their home planet, Captain Lee Xijang and Commander Cho Minhu were citizens of the Hegemony of Oriental, who were fiercely patriotic and loyal. For them and their PAC neighbors, dying for Motherland was not regrettable, it was the highest honour one could hope for. Of course, they were pragmatic enough to know if their deaths were fruitful, the problem was that they were competent and charismatic enough to convince the Admiral that the answer was "yes".

It seemed that there was no other choice. The crew had already volunteered for the job. They would delay the final advance of the Turian, giving the ground forces any piece of intel they came across and buying the GROPO a few more minutes, hours at best.

Admiral Shivam Sodhi felt a bitter taste on his tongue. It appeared that the naval fight for the system had been lost. Sure, it was expected, but to experience it was a totally different job. No matter how one mentally trained himself, retreating and suffering defeat deliberately were still hard jobs to do. The other part, well, the Admiral just hoped that the fight here had cost the logistic power of the Turian fleet dearly, and the fight on the ground would cost them more. Then, may be their supply line would be over-extended, giving the humans an opportunity to strike back.

The Shield had failed, then the Dagger and Hammer shall hold the line. No matter what. After all, while the battle was lost, the war was still raging on… No, the war had just begun.

For the Motherland, then.

* * *

 **Author's note: This chapter is mostly showing the Turian took control of the Zhusanjiao system (with Shanxi planet) via brute force. To put it in plain terms: they are using an armada equivalent to four to five full strength fleets (plus the attached ground forces) to fight for the system. They outnumbered the humans by a factor of thirteen. A third of the Terran defenders was killed (as in "killed", not mission-killed) and they had to retreat.**

 **To be fair, I always have more connection to ground and aerial warfare. Navy combat, both wet and void, is... hard to described for me. I can recognise the key points and features, but putting them into words is much harder compared to describing the carnage through the eyes of a soldier. I promise that I will try my best to compensate with the perspective of some GROPO then.**


	12. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone, I had been trying to update the story last week, but I was hit with a writer block - I was unable to write down because my brain refused to co-operate. Making new lines was never harder... and I was too lazy to do so.**

 **At least this weekend is a lot more productive. I have been finally able to finish this chapter. A part of the Chapter 7 (in my old fic) is reused, freeing up some of my brain cells to finish the chapter with about 5700 words - give or take fifty. Not bad for a lazy ass, I would say. Still, it is slightly shorter than the average level achieved by myself while posting my story here.**

 **Well, guess I would have to ramp up my effort for the next time then.**

* * *

 **Reviews' response:**

 **The-Black-Prince-Thomas** : I would say that the writers of the Mass Effect franchise _make_ the aliens based on humans' characteristics. However, you are also right to say that the humans are and will be fighting with an unholy combination of all known styles to the Citadel Council. I have been trying to mend them with the Turians - as in putting both as a highly competent, motivated and disciplined army. The similarity with the Salarian was a bit less subtle, the electronic warfare of humanity basically made them invisible to the Turian's sensors. Wait until they make groundfall (from the next chapter, I think), and I will try to unleash a combination of all the Big Three. The Krogan-style will have to wait a bit longer (both for the Turians and for the party pooper).

And yes, your last line is practically my idea for this chapter: The Turian boarders lost men and material trying to capture the Outpost/Space station, only to have it blow up in their faces. Pity them.

 **OMAC001** : I have the appetizer of Close quarter combat inside a space station this time. Warming it up a bit, you know? I have been "poisoned" by Russian war drama where a lot of men died within the opening sections.

 **general-joseph-dickson** : That was my idea of the last chapter. Us humans could have the spirit, the tenacity and the quality, but the number of the Turians still carried them to victory.

 **Pteaset** : Thank you for your praise.

Guest: Wait until I show you the ground warfare or the rallying speeches - Humanity Fuck Yeah at the finest there.

 **CReaper210** : You hope, and I deliver "moar" for you. Enjoy the chapter my loyal readers.

* * *

"Gentlemen, it is an honour serving with you."

"Comrades, thank you for your service."

\- Unnamed US Navy and Soviet Navy Captains in X-men: First class (2011)

* * *

 **Location:**  
Outpost Hotel-Omega 29  
Geosynchronous orbit  
Shanxi  
Zhuansajiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental  
Terran Federation

 **Time:**  
13:05 – Terran standard time  
21 February 2201

The navy had already withdrawn due to high casualty, leaving the Outpost behind. That was part of the scenario. What was not, however, was the numbers of the enemy. Six hundred ships were more than enough to make many gasped at it. Sure, a significant portion of that number was just corvette-size, but quantity had its own quality. Armed with a _Putin the Great_ thermonuclear bomb or not, six hundred ships were still too much of a challenge.

On the other hand, barely a dozen of scratched corvette-size ships and a dozen platoon-size boarding crafts were a "just-enough" challenge for the crew. The plan was aptly named "Cobra", the Terran crew decided to ambush the Turian marines inside the Outpost, using their home field advantage to the fullest. Ranging from opening/closing some doors or corridors, turning the lights on and off to blow up a few sections to vacuum, the possibilities for them to hold was limitless.

Of course, dealing with the transports was easy, dealing with their escorts was not. The Outpost lacked the heavy weaponry to deal with the Turian frigates. Twelve ships were simply too much for their defense system. The only chance they had was, again, to rely on the element of surprise, waiting those ships to come close enough before opening fire. It was likely that they could not turn any of those ships into molten balls of fire, but if they were able to use them as shields to block the main gun fire from the fleet, that was enough.

The command bridge of the outpost waited, watching the flotilla of frigates and transporters draw closers. Those frigates were comparable in size to the humans' corvettes. But unlike the Terran corvettes were used for patrols or defensive and delaying actions, they were used quite offensively. This would bear a few problems for the Outpost, especially taking into account the existence of the Turian barrier. To think that those transporters were also equipped with kinetic shields, much weaker than the ones installed on warships, but they were still shields nonetheless.

But in the end, those details were not mattered. The crew had a job, and they would do it. The distance between the Outpost and the group of warship was practically knife-edge now, barely a dozen klicks to the frigate wolf-pack, and a few hundred meters to the transporters. Twelve of the latter, the Codex supplied by the Quarian put each ship being able to carry about twenty troopers, therefore, two hundred and forty boarders would storm in the space station. To counter that, the Terrans only had thirty-five Marines and one dozen ODST, as well as twenty critical non-combat Navy personnel. So it was about sixty defenders in total.

Simple mathematics calculation gave the ratio of four to one, more that the critical threshold of three to one for the attackers to overcome the defence. Of course, modern technology and tactics allowed a much smaller number of attackers to do the same job, but the idea of outnumbering the defender, even if just locally, still persisted. Based on the hard numbers, the humans knew well and clearly that they would lose the space station here. The question was just how much they could make the Turian bled for it.

With a signal of the Captain, Commander Cho signalled to unleash the barrage. The entire Outpost sprang back to life, virtually shooting the incoming ships at point blank range. All fifteen of the missile pods were activated, burning toward the escort in order to distract their point-defense systems. Using the confusion, the token squadron X-wing of the Outpost was launched, attacking the vulnerable transporters. To support them, the CIWS also spinned up and let loose their torrents of fire.

The result was quite spectacular. First was a series of fireball, then streaks of light flashed in the night. They were quickly escorted by a hymn of reports in the bridge. Lee Xijang watched his console, taking into the result of the ambush. All Turian frigates suffered various degrees on their kinetic barriers, including three losing the entire of it. Four transporters were neutralised, floating dead in the void of space. However, to gain that number, he had to use all of his missile reserve, the pilots had no choice but to eject, pumping themselves back to Shanxi via atmospheric drop pod – hope they could land safely on ground. In addition, the remaining Turian transporters had been able to break through the wall of fire and they were now trying to cut through the wall of the space station…

A message was quickly sent to Lieutenant Maverick, the ranking commander officer of the Marines on board, to alert him about the incoming boarders. A confirmation was quickly sent back with the assurance that the Marines would do anything to delay the progress of the Turians, by whatever means possible.

While not totally happy about it, Captain Lee had no choice but to trust the man. After all, he was a Navy officer, not a Marine or Ground force. The Lieutenant had already put his trust on him to keep the Turian reinforcement away, and he would trust the guy to keep the Turian boarders from doing anything critical. It seemed that business was still as usual: all fucked up. Guess that was Terran Federation for everyone.

"ELWA! What is the situation on the Turian firewalls?"

"No progress sir! We are still unable to find any doors on their system. Their programming language is too alien for any of us to understand."

"Serina?"

"Sir, the Codex does not have anything on computer or programming language. It only has basic information on the political entities, the social demographics and some history. Nothing too scientific or technological."

The Outpost shuddered, signalling the docking process of the Turian transporter ships. Lee snapped his fingers, signalling his men to send the positions of those breaches to the Marines. Of course, within the vacuum environments, no one could hear it, but they could definitely see the snap and the finger pointing.

"So, Serina, how do we able to read the Codex in the first place then?"

"The system used to write it is basic enough with binary code, pure plain text with hyperlinks and search tool bar. Basic idea, with the employment of a translating tool between text and binary code, a second-year under-graduate student can do the whole Codex. Given time, of course."

Grunting, Captain Lee got back to his work, co-ordinating the defence of the station. The entire oxygen supply had been pumped into tanks scattered around the Outpost. This would severely reduce the combat capabilities of the enemy if they had no sealed suits. Sure, any sensible and competent armies would have equipped their boarders with such measures. But the humans had only known themselves so far, and the Quarians had little information on the military tactics of the Turians – the ones alive, free and staying within the vicinity, at least.

Besides, flushing out the oxygen also meant that flame would be rendered useless, be it flamethrowers or explosions. No flame meant no heat, and no heat meant less damage inflicted upon the defenders. In addition to the low content of oxygen, the self-rotating feature of the Outpost was being deactivated, aiming to remove the artificial gravity and give the attackers extra challenge during the fight.

Two previously damaged transporters had been able to recover and activate their boosters. With the newly recovered systems, they were able to dart out of the way, approaching the Outpost on a presumable crashing vector. Their friends, the two remaining crafts, were not so lucky. Closed-In Weapon System had already rendered them into drifting wreckages. The frigate squadron fared a bit better while suffering no more casualty, however, all of their disruptor torpedoes had been shot down, keeping the integrity of the Terran Outpost. It seemed that they had no desire to open fire their main guns on the space station – after all, their friends were storming through the breaches, and friendly fire was always terrible.

Two breaches were made in the Docking bay, one more at the outer ring of the Control Module and the last two were at the connecting section between the two. Turians were seen pouring out from the holes, guns raised forward and moving in synch. Despite having little experience in CQC [Close-quarter Combat], Captain Lee could not help but to feel an awe watching the aliens. They were professional and well-trained with all soldiers being equipped with hard-suits, quite similar-looking to the ones used by Terran Federation. In addition, each fireteam covered each other and each man in each fireteam covered a potential angle of attack.

Normally, short of a well-placed and overwhelming ambush, there was little one could do to displace them. Everyone knew that, the Turian and the Human. However, unlike the Turian who resorted to the number, the Human relied on tricks, cheap dirty tricks (that actually work).

"Cut the light."

The order was given from Commander Cho, and the breached areas were quickly disconnected from the main grid. All cameras showed nothing but a pitch black blanket of darkness. While darkness was not completely impenetrable with the invention of Night Vision Goggles (and equivalent tools), those tools still needed a while to power up. And even if they could be turned on instantly, the optical organ (a.k.a. eyes) still needed some time to get used to the change of environment.

"Rotating boosters are now cleared to disengage!"

A report was sounded from a station below, and Captain Lee quickly heard the order from his second-in-command to disengage them. A shudder was quickly felt by everyone on board while the station slowly stopped it self-rotating. Physics kicked in instantly, decreasing the gravity anywhere in the station. On the camera feed, multiple Turians had already show signs of struggle to stick to the floor or to maintain their aims. Their efforts were for naught as the Zero-G environment was achieved, floating them in the air.

Both the temporary blindness and the lack of support had already thrown them into disarray. Following the Art of War, it meant that they had lost the factor of "Earth" in warfare and the factor of "Men" had been affected negatively. The odds were turned slightly in human's favour.

"B345, A67, you are clear to engage."

* * *

With the order given, the Marine platoon and the ODST squad quickly opened fire. Thanks to their own NVGs and magnetic boots, the human defenders were not affected by the changes in environment as the Turians.

In short, their aims were not affected at all. In the dead silence of space, multiple Turians were hit by the invisible paths of bullets. While those bullets had a much slower velocity compared to Mass Effect rounds used by the Citadel Council, the difference in speed meant little in close quarter combat like this. In addition, it was actually an advantage for the humans as the lower velocity meant that those bullets could not form any plasma, therefore, there was no "streaks of light", concealing their firing positions. Of course, the muzzle flashes still existed, but being able to see them and shoot back was another story.

Hiding behind crates and door frames, the Marines put up a valiant fight, stalling the Turians right at their breaches. However, they lack the necessary number to fight back when the aliens deployed their own variant of Squad Automatic Weapon (or SAW). The whole corridors and hangar were almost lit up by the light of the battle. The streaks of light crashed on their targets, while failing to penetrate the obstacles, were able to pin down the defenders.

Both sides were still exchanging their fire, neither showed any sign of breaking down. For the Terran, they were burning through their reserves at an alarming rate. With little time to aim and adjust, there was no choice but to fire rapidly in short burst, aiming at the shadows jumping or floating. While the humans had the jump on the Turians to inflict considerable damage, their enemies were able to recover at dangerously high rate. It was as if there was just a few seconds of lag between the initiating of the fight and their response.

It forecasted… troubling matters. Either they were very well-trained and well-drilled, or they had competent NCOs and/or officers on the ground. The problem was that spotting him (or worse, them) would a tough challenge. It was hard enough under the lights because there was no sane army would highlight their leaders (snipers' favourite targets, obviously). Now, they were fighting in the darkness, the NVGs allowed them to see the shapes and the lines, but not the colour or any high definition image.

Coporal Silva cursed under his breath while reloading the AK-25. His ODST 67th Squad was a part of the defence line around the Control Module. As luck would make it, the zone was one of the areas being besieged by the Turians right from the get go. At least the AI had already sealed up the doors connecting to the command and engineering areas, it had freed up some personnel to defend the Outpost. It allowed him to build up a wall of fire here, slowing down the advance of the Turians and hopefully stopping them here. However, the job was proving to be hard as the enemy had finally able to regroup and recover, even if they had already lost half of their number. In addition, it seemed that many of that "half" was just knocked to their feet and not dead yet – thanks to the flashy stuff around their bodies. Shield, most likely.

On his left, a soldier was knocked back from a solid hit to the head. His helmet screen was hit by a score of light streaks and crashed instantly. The back of his head was pierced through with the sheer kinetic energy for the alien rounds. He quickly collapsed on the ground with an almost audible "thunk". Blood was seen sprouting out of the fallen, his vitals were shown clearly as going flat-line on Silva's HUD. Private Chernov was officially recorded as Killed in Action, Fallen in line of duty. A few other soldiers were also reporting various degrees of injuries. Occasional grenades or explosive devices were thrown against the humans, throwing their covers away and forcing them to dart for new spots. They would lose everyone here, if no action was taken.

Cursing, Silva yelled into his microphone:

"A67, retreat back to second line. Fire team Bravo and Gamma, provide covering fire. Fireteam Alpha, load up tracer, blind their eyes. NOW!"

Green lights were lit on his HUD, reporting the affirmatives of his soldier. Slamming a new magazine into his gun, Silva quickly let loose a steady stream of fire, the tracer rounds left behind its own dazzling light. His own firepower was combined with his fireteam, almost blinding the whole corridor. Grabbing the collar of Chernov, he walked backward while maintaining the suppression fire, pinning down the Turians. Fireteam Bravo and Gamma added in with their grenades and machine guns, making the wall of fire even more severe. However, there were still many streaks of light heading toward them, forcing them to haul their arses, or risk death there.

Once the whole team was able to get through the door, the quickly closed and sealed it. For good measures, Corporal Silva also shot the control panel and had his men sabotage the mechanical opening mechanism. Their mission was to slow down the enemy after all. For a squad of fifteen, being able to kill over twenty Turians within a single minute was a brilliant success.

Corporal Silva then signalled Private Daletski, who then pushed a few buttons on his wrist-mounted data pad. The ground under their feet quickly shook with the force of ten kilogram worth of TNT – parting gift of the ODST squad scattered around the room they just retreated away. It was not enough to kill many Turians, but it was definitely able to keep the aliens on edge, further slow down their advance.

The squad quickly re-ogranised themselves in the second line of defense. With a narrower corridor of approach, they could limit the numerical superiority of the Turian and even played it against them.

The battle scene then erringly turned silent for the ODST squad. Sure, they followed the battle plan, but the quietness of the battlefield unnerved them. Within the sealed suit, sweat could not vaporise or escape, meaning that the repugnant smell could not escape away. It stuck in the noses of the soldier, but none complaint about it. Their discipline and training had been able to hold well under pressure.

The radio net reported the progress of the battle. The Turian had finally done beaching at the hangar bay and they were finding ways to open the door. They had been able to adapt to the change in environment with deployed their own hard suits and magnetic boots. It allowed them to focus on disabling the door without worrying about their own ability to stand.

First and Second Squads of 345th Marine Platoon had to retreat under the heavy fire of the enemy, losing three men in the process. They were using another corridor to pull back – using the main hallway would put them right through the main concentration of the Turians, really counter-effective.

"A67, beware, the Turians are preparing a breaching charge."

The AI Serina sent forth a live video feed from the room, showing a Turian planting something on the door. Breaching charge – it was the only answer fit within the scenario. Scattered around the room were the fallen Turian, it seemed that while they were hit hard, the number of their death was actually low – just three or four. The wounded, however, was five times that number. Clearly, their hard suits had absorbed a portion of the punch dealt by the bullets, but they still failed to totally block out the enhanced damage. One score for humanity, perhaps?

Less than thirty seconds later, the Turian sapper had done planting his charge and was now racing toward a cover. On the live video feed, he was shown fishing out a cylindrical object from a chest pocket and fumbling around with it. Then, the live feed was shaken up along with the corridor where 67th ODST Squad was stationing in. The door had been breached, its broken parts were blown inward and started floating around, thanks to the Zero-G environment.

The gap was instantly covered with blue streaks of hypersonic grains of metal and invisible paths of heavy and deadly packages. The Turian surged forward, planning to use their advantages in number and protection to overwhelm their hostile. However, the ODSTs were one of the most elite forces among the whole Federation. They would not break that easy.

With short and steady bursts, they used the narrow gate to their advantage by literally pump a full armoury through it. One by one, the Turians were lit up with their shields being activated, after ten seconds, the first Turian fell down to the floor, his torso was punctured with a few odds bullets, each one teared through the suit's armour like a hot knife through butter. Some kind of liquid, which must be blood, splattered on the men behind him, throwing their aim in disarray. Another dino-bird had his shield depleted and his helmet punctured immediately after that.

One by one, the Turian boarders suffered tremendous casualty, none of which looked pretty. Their advance was effectively stalled right at the gate and blocked by their own dead bodies. For any defenders, it would be a welcoming sight. However, the ODSTs had little time to admire their own handywork – they were being hammered hard.

Silva was hit twice in the abdomen region. His blood was pouring out from the bullet entrance, making him feel dizzy and unstable. With no other option, he had no choice but to lay down on the ground, using the floor as support to keep his gun stable. Sure, there was no gravity left on the station, which meant that the base was not as important as it was on the ground, but he could use a stable base to lay down on – he was too tired to stand already.

His men were also suffering various degrees of injuries, and the casualty was mounting with each second. Some were hit in the torso, some got their arms disabled and even some were hit flatly in the faces. With that degree of casualty, some ODSTs had no choice but to pick up the weapons of the fallen comrades and practically dual wielded the guns for a while. However, the Turian grenadier made short work of them.

Silva slammed another magazine on his gun, sniping down another Turian with his shield depleted. The first few shots landed on his calf, but the next burst went wild due to covering fire from other threats. He pulled the trigger of his mounted grenade launcher, sending a 40mm-message of "Fuck you" right into the middle of the Turian boarders. However, he scored no kill this time due to the regeneration of their shields.

The situation was getting direr with each second passed. Now, Silva only had himself, bleeding to death, and two other injured soldiers. The reports from other units were not brilliant, if not even worse. First and Second squads of the 345th was caught up by the pursuing Turians, they were wiped out with the last man sending back a report before detonating his own grenade. The Third and Forth squads had to deal with Turian reinforcement, which landed on the other end of the space station. Their situation was… hopeless with the new enemy cutting their formation into pieces. Over there, each man was fighting hand-to-hand with the dino-birds now. The humans were vicious in fighting with knives, fists and shovels, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.

It seemed there was no other option.

"This is A67. We are about to be overrun. Position lost, enemy breaching soon. I repeat. Position lost, enemy breaching soon! Over."

The message was quickly sent to the bridge and reported to the Captain. Silva was perfectly aware of what would happen in this case. There would be no surrender, there would be no retreat or mercy. There were simply two options: victory, or death. And because they had lost in the counter-boarding fight, well, it was always a good day to die.

Silva grinned like a maniac, his mission had been completed, he had lived his life to the fullest extent… Okay, he had not asked the girl he met in the bar last week for her number, but it was not really important. He had fulfilled his job here, the remaining issue was simple: How many Turian he could take along to hell. Like his Sergeant had said, killing one man meant breaking even, killing more meant making profit – and he had already made a hefty profit himself.

* * *

All over the station, every breach made by the Turians was met with stiff resistance. Despite having better infantry weapons and equipment, the Turians appeared to not be as experienced facing a determined enemy as humans were. The on board Marines and ODSTs used whatever they could to gain an advantage, from fighting in the dark or blinding the birds with strong flashing lights. Some even fought at melee range to win.

She had to divide the processing power between four main tasks: assisting Captain Lee in destroying enemy ship formations, assisting the remnants of the defenders to prolong the fight as long as possible, fighting off hacking attempts of the Turians (they were quite good for a race was not using Artificial Intelligence) and analysing the Codex given to them by the Quarians.

It was quite straining, but still possible in terms of computing power. After all, functioning at high pressure over a long period of time was what AIs like her were designed for. Serina scowled… The Marine detachment had already lost thirty-five men, effectively three fourths of their strength, and that was the killed ones only.

The Turians had also suffered heavy losses, but with their numerical superiority, they could afford such consequences. So far, they had already steam rolled over the last organic defenders, meaning that the last line of defence consisted of auto-turrets only. They would be vunerable to enemy hackers, who were also part of the boarding parties. Recognizing their danger, Serina had already painted them as "high value targets" and tagged them on their tactical maps. So far, three hackers had been neutralised thanks to their combined effort, and while they may not be able hack her, it would be easier for her to protect the integrity of the data on the station. At this point though, she had no other choice than to rely on herself to take them down.

The fight was still going on, it would be short, but it would be very brutal and death was highly guaranteed. Doing the equivalent to a human sigh, she continued her mission because someone had already put it as "For Motherland". This was not the time to quit or surrender. She was a 3rd Generation Human Artificial Intelligence, and she was going to make sure that she went down as a part of humanity – with a smile on her lips and a middle finger toward her enemies.

* * *

Captain Lee Xijang cursed under his breath. All Marines had been killed in action and his Outpost had already run out of all kind of ammunition. The transporters were arriving en mass with little to no opposition and making landfall on Shanxi. Meanwhile, some frigates were providing their own close fire support with their laser turrets, further damaging his station. The situation was critical.

The new message was sent toward his personal console, the Turians had finally been able to breach the door toward the Engineering section, where the power generators were located in. If the Turian could take control of the section, they could bring those machines down the ground, giving them extra edge in the fight below. The directive was very clear in this regard: left nothing for the enemy. The station must be put into a self-destruct sequence at once.

The urgency of the situation was further enhanced with another group of Turian boarders who were approaching the bridge. Sure, they would have to blow through a few reinforced doors and walls – but those structures were not exactly anti-access in the first place. In addition, the eventual result would be the loss of the bridge, where various data and intelligence was stored. If the Turian could put their hands (or rather, claws) on those, well, the First Contact War would be much much more bloody for humanity. Sure, the electronics warfare would slow down that process, but in the end, they would still be able to get a _physical_ copy of the data. Again, the directive was very clear in this regard: left nothing for the enemy. The station must be put into a self-destruct sequence at once.

Taking a deep breath, Xijang spoke into his microphone. There was no other option, there was no other solution for the problem.

"This is Captain Lee Xijang, all men, start up the self-destruct sequence, send the last package of our intel to General Williams. Our job is done here."

All of his men froze in their work for a very brief moment, all eyes were on him for a second before they rushed back to their work. Their work screen quickly turned red, showing the severity as well as the danger of the route. A mixture of desperation and relief filled inside him. He was drained physically, but somehow, his mind was still as sharp as ever. It was a very… strange feeling to say the least.

Glancing toward the CIC, he caught the eyes of Commander Cho Minhu, his second-in-command. Through the transparent screens, their eyes stared into each other. There was not a single word being said but they understood each other perfectly – they knew the risk involved, and both of them had volunteered for this job.

Xijang fished out a key from his chest pocket and Minhu removed her key necklace. Those two were the requirement to activate the self-destruct mechanism of the station. Removing the straps, the two of them quickly floated up over the heads of their comrades. With their seats as support, they launched themselves toward the Central console at the middle for the room, preparing the last steps of the work.

There was little to be said, no, there was nothing to say. The radio net of the bridge was very silent, saved for the breathing sound of the crews. Glancing to the side again, he saw the subtle nod of the second-in-command, and they put in their keys in the same time. The keys were then turned in the same time, revealing a big red button on the console. It was the trigger to set up the detonation over the whole station.

Of course, he could hit the button right now and be done with the job, but he wanted to make sure all electronics and software were properly removed and rendered ineffective. Physical destruction was one thing, but complete eradication was another. There was simply no guarantee that the Turians could not learn from unpowered computers or equipments.

Xijang glanced to the corner of his HUD. Serina was deleting herself and messing her own codes up, which was effectively the combination of suicide _and_ insanity for Artificial Intelligence. The crews were almost done on deleting their information. While none of them was watching it directly, they knew that they were still racing against the dino-birds and time in the same time. Then, just when the Turians stepped into the last corridor, the work was completed.

"Serina, thank you for your service. The Terran Federation shall remember and honour your sacrifice."

Captain Lee whispered in his helmet, not looking for any reply from the now-dead AI. However, a text message suddenly appeared on his screen: _Semper Paratus_. Always ready, the (unofficial) motto of all AIs created by the humans. The feeling and the emotion… they were hard to describe for Xijang, a mixture of pride and sorrow… But he had little time to dwell in them. He still had a job to do.

He then slammed down his fist on the big red button, officially activating the self-destruct sequence. A count-down of one minute quickly appeared on everyone's screen – there was nothing could stop it now. The crew had done their jobs, there was nothing left to do.

Actually, there was one.

Captain Lee Xijang pulled out his sidearm from the holster on the thigh and did a quick check over it – one round was in the chamber. He glanced to the side and, to be fair, he was not exactly surprised to see Commander Cho Minhu had already been prepared with a compact sub-machine gun, a PDW (Personal defense weapon. Around him, the crew members were pulling out their weapons from the stash under their seats.

No one spoke a single line, they all knew what the others were about to do. None of them would be captured prisoner today, none of them would have their flag or their uniforms soiled by the aliens. Victory, or death.

"Gentlemen, and lady, it is an honour to serve with you."

Xijang spoke shortly, it was a classic line, but it always worked because it was always correct.

"No, sir, the honour is ours."

As one could expect, the one saying that was the second-in-command. He just grinned upon hearing that. It seemed that the traditional was still followed, even in the direst situation. Then, from the CIC, an officer started humming a song – _Song of the Cosmos Pilots_. The 27th Destroyer Division had gone down with that song, it would be only proper to honour their comrades in that way.

 _O'er the gelid waves of galactic streams,  
Set course for the fixed star of Centuri.  
Our glorious cosmoship crosses o'er the void far,  
Beyond those twinkling stars._

The door was blasted away to a breaching charge. A few shadows appeared in the hazy smokes and the still-flying debris. However, the crew had already opened fire in retaliation. Their song was still sung, it was still transmitted on open net as if they were daring the Turians to do the same.

 _Set Sail! We're casting off, anchors aweigh  
Stand on your bearing, steady as she goes  
(Steady as she goes)._

The fight in the bridge was an uneven one. On the one hand was dedicated boarding unit of the aliens who had been around for a thousand years, on the other hand, the human was just a navy crew who had their backs against the wall. However, they did not plan to beat back the Turian from the start – they only had to draw out the time. The mark on the screen was now less than 30.

Commander Cho and Captain Lee fell down next to each other, their guns empty and each of them clutching a fresh magazine. Coughing in his own helmet, Xijang felt no pain – strangely enough. Then, he heard the voice of his second-in-command strained by pain and shock:

"Sir, you still owes me a drink."

"I know, I will buy you one in Hell. So, coffee or green tea?"

On the radio net, the song was entering its last lines of the first verse, and the clock was ticking down its last moment:

 _Weather your helm towards the stars  
We are Pilots  
We are Pilots of the Cosmos_

"Coffee would be nice, sir."

Xijang just grinned, just in time to see his world turning into a dazzling screen of bright white light.

Mission accomplished.


	13. Chapter 12

**Well, I'm back. The last few weeks were a bit hectic for me, first an exam, then came a series of writer block and my laziness disease caught up with my brain. Meanwhile, I still had a SpaceBattle and SufficientVelocity quest to run - Speaking of which, I'm updating the story only version of those quest on Fanfiction under my own account. It is an Infinite Stratos-based quest (anime/manga).**

 **In the shortest sense, it tells the tale about a dunderhead who is the _only_ male having the ability to control a weapon _only_ available to women. My quest introduces another male character with the same ability - but with more style, more lethality, less fuck to give and more hormones.**

 **I wonder if you guys can check it out and give it a look. Thanks for your support.**

 **Back to this story, For the Motherland, it finally comes down to a ground-based battle. Kind of, the conventional meaning of "ground battle" is quite little, with just three sniping shots - each one is a 14.5x114mm catridge. To put it in respective, a 12.7x99mm bullet (a .50 cal) can _rip your arm apart_ at best and _turn you into a red mist_ at worst. However, the chapter also featured Father of All Bomb (FOAB) from Great Mother Russia and a squadron from (unnamed) Top Gun of Holy Uncle Sam.**

 **Death count: Well, humanity had seen worse death count before.**

* * *

 **The story now has its own cover image. Unfortunately, I did not make it - my art skill is lacking at best and non-existent at worst. I just pick it up from the internet.**

 **And in case you are wondering, it is the flag of the Terran Federation - though the the outside ring has nine stars, not seven.**

* * *

 **Reviews' response:**

 **Watcher123:** You are showing the dilemma of the Turians. With Desolas minding his own problems and trusting his men and his co-conspirators to have the job done, the Turians find themselves lack the ingenious and adaptation, therefore, they have to return to their original solution: frontal assault. It worked - albeit with staggering high casualty.

 **ArchAngel319:** Thank you for your support. I shall always tried my best to deliver the most well-written works to you guys.

 **OMAC001:** The war can only go progressively worse. Things are only "fine" for humans at the moment. And yes, I can give you my word that Shanxi will _not_ be the most bloody battle in the First Contact War. Hint: First of Her name, Second of Volgo, Third of Stalin, Fourth of the Tsar. (and no, the city has not been introduced yet)

 **CReaper210:** Thank you for your support.

 **EchoSentient:** End Times of Warhammer Fantasy? Type on Google... Game of Thrones? Try to find some _not-exactly-legal_ versions (I'm poor, sue me)... Thanks for your help. evil giggling in the corner

 **Pteaset chapter 2:** Well, thanks for your support, I guess? Please accept my slow update rate though. The constant laziness is very effective in countering the boredom of Engineering class. And Internet is a wide wide place...

 **heartfanglives:** Thank you for your support. While this chapter does not have a last stand, it has two FOAB going off in the same time. _Each_ of them is rated at 44 tons of TNT - and yes, they are real weapon at the moment, developed and tested by Russia Federation, FOAB is believed to be the _most powerful_ weapon at sub-nuclear level.

 **pyrothekid:** Thanks for your support. Though I'm regret to tell you that the song in the last chapter is _not_ sung by Sabaton. It is in Japanese originally, featured in anime SpaceBattleship Yamato 2199. Its name is Song of the Cosmos pilots (and some translations put it as "Galaxy passage" - The Romantised name is Ginga Kouro). Sabaton will be featured in my fic though, because I'm a fan of theirs - in fact, my laptop is blazing "Back in Control" now.

 **general-joseph-dickson:** Well, we are humans, aren't we? We hate going down to Hell alone, especially when we are surrounded by enemies.

 **Pteaset chapter 12:** Thank you for your response. It is wonderful to know that my work is very real to my readers, being able to make you feel as if you are on "pins and needles". It is wonderful for someone who is still fairly new to the Fanfiction business like me.

 **The-Black-Prince-Thomas:** They are heroes, sir, they always have their own spots, food and drinks in the hall of Valhalla.

* * *

"How NOT to invade a planet: Shanxi"  
\- Title of a best-seller by Matriarch Lyanna B'Sayle (Asari Republic), co-penned by General Carl Jenkins (Terran Federation), Colonel Bel Valern (United Clans of Salarian) and Major Saren Arterius (Turian Hierarchy)

"Shanxi was the first time where more than a Turian Fleet and a Turian Legion deployed their full might in nearly a thousand years, showing their fist of steel and hammer of thunder. However, it was also the place where the humans, or rather, the Terrans, made their name as a race with ingenious and highly dangerous, borderline unconventional, tactics. Which one is better is a question still being debated heavily among the halls by scholars. How they reach the final decision is beyond my pesky brain... And for soldiers like me? Well, I'm lucky to be alive and in one piece after leaving that place. For the humans? I met a few guys just this morning, they said that they did not believe that they were even alive after the battle."  
\- _Peditatus_ [Private] Canmus Paetrian, Eighth Legion, Turian Hierarchy

* * *

 **Location:**  
Command bunker – approximately 100m underground  
Wild primitive jungle  
North – East quarter-sphere  
Shanxi  
Zhuansajiao system  
Hegemony of Oriental  
Terran Federation

 **Time:**  
18:00 – Terran standard time  
21 February 2201

The Turian fleet was gutted heavily by the defending naval force, however, their primary objective of dislodging the Terran fleet was successful. While it was expected in the plan, actually watching it taking place was still a shock to Lieutenant General Richard Williams. Six hundred ships were deployed by the aliens to besiege Shanxi, and that number was roughly equivalent to half of the entire Terran Navy. Clearly, fighting them head on in space did not seem pleasant anymore.

Well, he was a Ground Pounder, his job was to make sure the ground was held, taken or kept. He would leave the stars to the Navy, they were much better than him in the void, just as he was better on the ground than those fly boys. At least, it had been shown that mankind could stand against aliens and fight equally despite being outnumbered heavily. It was hoped that his Ground force could do the same here.

Using the time gap since the violent contact with the Turian, he had already stationed his troops at critical locations on the planet. Luckily, Shanxi was just a developing colony, which meant that apart from the Capital city Zhen Zhu and its space port, there was no other significant target to speak of. In addition, a tunnel system had been finished, allowing him to move his troops undetected. Sure, it was just a crude system and it was quite a rush to have it done, but it worked and it was strong enough to take a light nuclear device detonating on the ground. Mobility of the defender would be ensured thanks to this system, and with it, the city would be kept in human's hand as long as possible.

Of course, just defending meant little in modern warfare. The key point of war was to attack at the right place, right time with the right number on the right target. In this case, it was to attack on the navy blockade to push those ships back, easing down on the orbital support and deployment. To solve that, the Terran had a few rockets armed with _Putin the Tsar_ thermonuclear warheads. Each rocket had two warheads worth 200 megaton of TNT each, and they had five of such rockets scattered around the planet. All launch bases were one-used and made from pre-fabricated systems. After all, the moment they were launched, the Turians would be able to find the launch site, making any dedicated rocket site become economically deficit.

Everything was hidden carefully. Looking from the orbit, the only thing those Turian could see was an abandoned city. There would be no army, no soldier and even no running vehicles on their sensors. World War Three had taught humanity a valuable lesson in the power of orbital surveillance, and subsequent war games had shown them the ability of orbital control. It would be just suicidal to send out the man under such conditions. The army could be obliterated within moments of being spotted, human's advantage in electronic warfare notwithstanding.

However, he still had to send out the Aviation units, jet fighters, to clear out a part of their landing forces. Based on the navy's report, the Turians only had laser turrets as anti-air weapon mounted on warship. With the presence of standard atmosphere, the laser beams would be diffracted very soon, reducing lethality greatly and giving them more time to attack the landing crafts. Even then, the prospect of enemy escort and the power of laser meant that the fighters may have to suffer tremendous casualty.

The whole unit volunteered for the job. Every single pilot took one step forward, even before he had finished his line of request. Their heads were held high, the chests put out with their arms extending straight on the sides. Those pilots, they all knew the risk – and they just decided it was worth doing so.

Being a General and a military commander, General Williams could not deny that honour. He asked them for their sacrifice, and because they had stepped up, he needed to make sure that their courage was not in vain. After all, a commander spent lives, but not waste them. And that was what he about to do.

Sitting in the command bunker, he watched the approaching Turian fleet via hidden satellites in orbit. Via calculation, it looked like they were planning to land in the spaceport, which was shrouded in the dark side of the planet. The combination of their approach vectors and gravitational force point out that it was the most likely possibility. They were planning to siege the spaceport and taking it within the night. Of course, for a modern army, deploying troops in the night just look a little problematic. It was hard and required a lot of training and discipline, but not impossible. While it played into the attacker's cards by keeping their waves away from the defender's eyes, they made a crucial mistake.

They were attacking mankind. For a race spent nearly five thousand years on just killing themselves, fighting in the night was expected from the common men, not the exception of the rule. The fighters, shrouded in darkness, would have virtually impunity in dealing with the transporters. Their enhanced electronic warfare would blind the Turian fighters, and made sure all counter-attacks were meaningless. In addition, General Williams was correct in locating the landing zone of the Turians.

They were using the local space port of Shanxi to land their troops. It was sounded decision, after all, the space port was spacious with a wide, flat and smooth run way, fit for landing mass amount of men and materials. The Turians may consider the possibility that the space port would be rigged or being shelled. For the first option, they were sending in a small unit, recon most likely. And for the second, they may also think that the site was too expensive to be blown up.

The human's answers for the Turian's plans were simple. For the recon team, they would be left alone, no one would shoot at them or try to blow them up. With their "safe" signal, the Turians would send down their full force, securing the space port as an operational base. That would lead to the answer for the second part, when the Turians were in sufficient number, General Williams would have the space port being blown sky high. The sappers had already guaranteed that the bombs were hidden well and carefully enough, and diffusing enough explosives was close to impossible. The furry fireballs would be followed up with the arrival of jet fighters, which would act like force amplifiers and inflicting damage on the Turians.

Or at least, that was the plan.

In the meantime, the General had nothing else to do other than to watch the situation unfolding in front of his eyes. His plans were in place, but they all needed a reactive reagent before the process could finally begin. At least, he did not have to wait too long.

Three Turian corvette-sized frigates were descending into the atmosphere, their paths put them right into the space port, finally confirming the enemy's plan. The command of General William quickly put the plan into action. Different read-outs were shown, detailing the situation taking place at ground zero. As it turned out, the offensive capability of Turian electronic warfare was quite good, enough to render the civilian system to a bunch of gibberish mesh.

However, that was all they could do. The live video feeds from the spaceport and the satellites were still uninterrupted, the jamming did little to the clarity of the signal. The Turians were good, but they were not as good as a race thriving and developing _through_ warfare. Their attempt to cut off contact to and from the spaceport was both pathetic and useless, for it was insufficient to do its job and because there was no defender in the spaceport in the first place. The stealth systems installed on those vessels were of little use when the grounded passive radar system had been able to take note of their positions.

The radar signals of those frigates suddenly shifted, becoming stronger and much more pronounced. It took place for quite a while, for nearly a minute, more than enough for the radars to get a more comprehensive reading from those vessels. For all of the scientific developments, those space ships had worse stealth than a blue-navy warship of early 21st century of the same size. This data would mean something else, but General William did not have the full view of picture to make a judgement. He logged the information into his datapad before focusing back into the screens.

During that one minute, the frigates released their cargo, a handful of smaller signals shown on the radar screens. Those must be their drop ships, the ones brining recon units into the fray. The scenario was still being met, so far.

The cameras of the starport quickly caught the features of those landing dropships. They were also blocky and ugly, just like their human's counterparts. Being built in a rectangular shape, they gave of the vibe of being well-armoured and yet their sleek angles brought off a manoeuvrable style. In size, they were quite average, about fifteen meters long, five in width and about four in height, roughly equal to a squad-size drop ship in the Terran army. The size of those crafts somewhat agreed to the theory of them being the recon units.

The group of drop ships numbered seven in total, and it did not take them too long before landing. Scattered around the space port, the passengers quickly got off and started moving in from different angles. It allowed them to maximise their coverage without overextending. The drop ships quickly took off and hovered around the space port, shining their lights inside and warming up their guns.

Not too shabby. Other than being much more stealthy and landing from further away, a human recon squad would do the same. Credit where credit due, though, his men would probably do the same if they saw no heat signature of any living beings in the space port.

General Williams watched the Turian soldiers carefully. These aliens had similar-looking armours to their human counterparts. A thick breastplate covered part of the neck and the shoulders, and the arms and legs were protected by some sheets of metal-looking substance. However, the most intriguing part was that none of them was wearing any form of helmet. Their helmets also had quite a distinct shape, not spherical like the ones used by humans, but a bit elongated in the back. From the look of it, those armour suits were sealed, protecting them from most external threats, including and especially the CBRN types.

The Turians were now walking slowly into the spaceport, showing clearly their teamwork dynamic. The sight recorded via the camera feeds impressed everyone in the command bunker – and that was something to say. The Turians just proved themselves to be an effective and professional fighting force. Just their scouting action had made them equivalent to any standing unit of the Terran Army, forecasting a long and bloody war of attrition before any side was willing to accept defeat.

Leaving the transport with weapons ready, the aliens scanned the area for hostiles, and upon seeing none, the men in the front quickly moved behind cover, ready to cover the advance of the ones behind them. They began "leapfrogging" with a group moving forward behind cover, while another moved past them. This process was repeated for all drop ships involved.

The space port was quickly secured and checked over by the Turians. The process was further sped up with their discovery of paper-backed map of the complex. Sure, they had no idea what the words meant, but the visual illustrations were enough for them to deduct the meaning. In the case they had literally no idea, the recon teams were more than enough to find out the meaning.

Slowly but surely, the Turians were securing the space port. While it was a major blow to the strategic capability of the Terran, the idea was theirs in the first place. With the orbital being taken by the aliens, there was little meaning in trying to keep the port and wasting men there. It was better to deny the advantage to the enemy and force them to slowly deploy the troops. In fact, this was just an up-scale version of anti-access-area-denial (A2AD) strategy used in the early 21st century.

Sure, A2AD failed to block the invading force, but its original mission was completed: the invasion force suffered tremendous casualty and their approach vectors were highly limited. These ideas allowed the defenders to rally up their numbers and materials to fight back. All of those fights were absolutely bloody, especially the Battle of Sai Gon, where four in every five local militia was either killed, wounded, captured or fleded by the end. Still, before they opened fire, a significant portion of the invading force had been destroyed, which was the key point.

The Turian recon units had definitely finished their job now. Their fleet had finally made a movement after a transmission was being spotted. The long-range radar noticed a sustainably high amount of signals similar to the drop ships used by the alien recons. It appeared that the dino-birds were deploying their own Hammer, their ground force to begin the occupation, pacification or something like that.

The scene further confirmed a few details within the Codex supplied by the Quarians: orbital bombardment was frowned on, along with racial extermination. May be the Turians would still love to kill all humans, but not by kinetic strikes but by foot on the ground. It would be a much more tedious process, much more brutal and sinister, but at least humanity would have a chance to fight back.

An hour passed in agony. Time was moving, but it was too slow for the General's liking. There was simply no real "new" development to speak of. The recon teams were still pushing in and out, checking all corners and nooks of the space port that they could dig their claws in. Meanwhile, the regular force kept pouring down, landing troops and vehicles on Shanxi. A few drop ships lingered back, acting as air surveillance and close air support while the remaining, being pure drop ship in transporter configuration, simply turned back into orbit to pick up more men.

In the command bunker, several officers were watching and reporting different events as they developed. The first wave of Turian "marines", armed with a mixture of heavy and light weaponry and armoured suits, moved into the compound carefully. In the same time, some pushed out, securing the perimeters around the space port with heavy weapon emplacements. The noticeable difference compared to the recon team was that they had no helmet on, as if they believed in their medical prowess or they were informed that the planet was safe for them to breathe normally. Genearl Williams would not bet on that though, everyone knew what happened to the Aztec after meeting up with the Spanish – their population was wiped out with foreign diseases: mumps, measles or small pox.

Another interesting feature was that the armoured suits of the Turian were colorful, and it was not colorful like in having a camouflage pattern. In fact, it was actually the other way around, the Turians had absolutely no concept of such idea. Each of their armour suits was in a plain and uniform shade of colors. Sure, most of them had bright grey, which could be somewhat useful in urban environment, but its almost silver-like appearance kind of rendered that point moot. In addition, there was a noticeable number of enemy wearing blue or red armors, and that was even before taking into account that some of them were wearing bright decorations.

These aliens definitely had too little brutal war in their history, especially modern time. Humanity had learnt its brutal lesson not to look conspicuous on the battlefield. Considering the staggering death rate of a few million for that reason… well, the humans had become very efficient in making them look unimportant. The Turians did not learn that lesson, therefore, they would have to pay the tuition fee soon enough.

In the same time, the Turians did not know that control of the spaceport was still in human hands. The idea was quickly showing its merit, the Turians were virtually flooding the site with men, weaponry and materials. If those numbers went up in flame, well, General Williams almost pitied the enemy commander. Almost.

The second wave of Turians began their touchdown sequence. It did not take long for them to be only a few meters in the air. So far, so good... He signaled his men, and they nodded grimly in response. One man hit a small button on a datapad.

Suddenly, all signals coming from the spaceport, from camera feed to radio signals, were lost immediately. The screen in the control room quickly shifted to a further set cameras, showing surviving enemy drop ships fleeing away from the scene. _Good thinking_.

A pair of thermobaric bombs, code-named Father of All Bomb, or FOAB, with the yield of nearly 45 tons of TNT was used. Each of them had blast radius of 300 meters, and in combination, they had enough power to smite the whole spaceport to pieces. However, the sappers had also out-done themselves, setting the bombs at critical locations, like next to a volatile fuel tank with broken valves. Needless to say, the result was extremely spectacular. Nothing was better than the smell of coffee and napalm in the morning – unless it was a giant fireball going off at dawn.

Right, dawn. For many, it was a symbol of hope, and to blow up the entire hostile landing force at dawn? That would some serious poetic symbolic victory.

The command staff ran some diagnostic programs and deduced that the effective combined blast radius was able to cover the entire space port complex. Losses of enemy force were estimated at 1500, equivalent to a brigade. Richard grimaced, if he were the enemy commander, he would be cursing by now. What a pity... to lose so many men before even meeting the enemy would be a terrible experience. Richard had no idea what to pray for: for the enemy commander to be smart enough and retreat, or stupid enough and get bogged down here.

New radar readings quickly showed him the answer: it was the latter case. A new, fresh wave of fighters and dropships were gunning down to the planet, albeit the fact that they were spread much wider and aiming at the vicinity of the port. Meanwhile, the surviving drop ships on the sky began circling the area searching furious for what had caused the attack, showing either the stupidity, or the stubbornness, of the enemy commander. Fine by him, General Williams smirked. He sent an order to launch four squadrons of drone fighters, 48 units, to deal with the surviving hostile birds. He knew that these drones would be slaughtered, but they were meant to be expendable when necessary. Lightly armed and cheaper to build than man craft, the only way for them to achieve victory was to overwhelm the enemy in sheer number.

And fort-eight drones with a hailstorm of 37mm rounds were probably enough to be called "numerical superiority". The drones flew in, virtually undetected by the enemy thanks to their low altitude, (relatively) low radar cross-section area and painted scheme. They approached the unsuspecting Turian wings and let loose a barrage of fire. There were roughly a dozen of those box-shape shapes that had managed to survive the explosion, and each was chased down by four drones.

Controlled by a full-fledged AI and putting out a serious amount of firepower, the incoming fire quickly overcame the enemy force. One disappeared in a ball of blue fire, two more fell to the ground with a trail of smoke, into a part of the jungle, whose area of responsibility belong to 674th Infantry Company, originated from PAC (God help those two pilots if they survived). Another one, while not hit, crashed to the ground due to panicking, and while the pilot managed to survive, after getting out of the plane, was promptly finished by a drone strafing run.

It was just in time to see the arrival of the Turian fighters. They did not follow the same design philosophy as humans - either a bird-like shape for aerial combat or the unholy ugliness for space fighting. Meanwhile, the Turian fighters seemed capable of fight in both atmosphere and space, though whether they could entering or escaping the atmosphere and still be combat-capable was another question. The fuselage looked like a curved piece of metal with two "legs" (or "small wings") pointing down and backwards from the belly. Looking at the image, Richard briefly wondered how _it_ could fly, but he decided to leave the question for the professionals back home. Here, he was simply a grunt doing his job.

The Turian newcomers quickly proved their power. Each of them launched a pair of missiles, homing in on humans' drones. While the electronics warfare of humanity still reigned supreme, the Turian had number on their side. Surviving drop ships would paint the drone with a laser tag, giving the missiles a set of target to kill. Sure, not all missiles were able to hit the target, but they were capable of mauling his drone wing badly.

Just a few moments later, the human-piloted jet fighters arrived. Armed with Beyond-Visual-Ranged-Missiles, or BVRM, those jets had little trouble in launching ahead a full salvo, claiming multiple kills. The yells and reports from those volunteer pilots were testaments to the martial might of humanity. So far, the Aviation Corp had already claimed more than fifteen fighter-kills and twenty dropship-kills. All of them were done with BVRMs, part of the standard doctrine since World War III.

With the rapid closing speed to each other, it did not take too long before both sides entering the next range of distance from each other. What launched next was short-range missiles, a full salvo from the Terran Aviation Corp. A dozen more Turian crafts were turned into fireballs mid-air, and the surviving drones made short-work of the remaining alien ships, either by their last burst of cannons or by ramming.

However, that was when everything went straight to hell. An orbiting frigate simply dropped down from the atmosphere (literally) and muck up everyone's radar reading. The combination of its own descending and its jammer was enough to break the lock of many anti-orbital weapons, the ones required a dedicated facility of guidance at least.

It did not take too long for the signal from the frigate to clear up, both electronic and visual. For better or for worse, it was lowering itself right in the vicinity of the passing by human's jet fighters. What happened next…

Its laser batteries lit up, cutting into the formation of both the drones and the jets, making their number dwindling down. First one, then three, then five… The cries of pain and surprise quickly filled up the channel. The drones dashed forward, blocking the sensors of the frigates or simply attacking the laser turrets. All of them were killed, buying just a few seconds more for the Terran pilots.

Using the crucial seconds bout with the destruction of the drones, the volunteer pilots banked up and down, activating their own chaffs, hoping to fool the enemy. It worked, somewhat, as the laser was significantly weaker in the atmosphere due to diffraction. The skimming shots did little damage to them. However, the Turian knew the same thing, and the frigate was slowly and steadily sailed toward those brave pilots. Its laser batteries never stopped firing.

Sure, the chaffs may be able to fool the automated system, but the Turian could always switch back to manual control (which they had already did). With the ship being able to survive multiple onslaught of Terran Macross Missile Massacre in space, its gunnery officers were more than able to deal with the threat (or at least, they had the motivation to do so). Due to physical restrictions, the jets would have no chance to replicate the sudden movements and breaks of the space-borne missiles. It meant that it was not long before a laser beam finally cut through their own.

However, even in such dire situation, the human pilots were still able to deal more damage onto their enemy. Five more Turian fighters were killed, and at least ten more was damaged. Numerous missiles were also launched, gunning towards the floating frigate. However, none of those missiles had enough power to seriously ham the spaceship. And with their inability to kill the enemy, they had to pay for that folly with their own lives.

One by one, the human pilots went down in flame. None of them had enough time to bail out after being hit – their deaths were instantaneous and sudden. No one had enough time to register the incoming death and then experience it. At least their deaths were fast and painless – and they did not die in vain. They had been able to maul the third wave heavily, even before those dropships could reach the safe height to parachute out.

In short, while the ambush with two FOABs was able to claim 1500 Turian lives, the assault of the pilots was able to claim at least 50 dropships, which worth at least 500 lives.

From a purely mathematics standpoint, the odds were deeply favouring the Terran today. However, everyone in the command bunker knew better than to speak it outloud. They had no choice but to send out those brave pilots and to watch them die. The casualty of the Aviation units on Shanxi, as of that moment, was 100% - there was simply no fighter pilot left.

Such loss stung deeply in the heart of the General. But he knew one thing clearly, the war had just begun. There would be many more deaths, a considerable portion of which would be considered "pointless". But, he, like all other Terrans, had no choice but to fight to protect their homes and their loved ones.

After all, it was For the Motherland.

Then, long-range radar was picking up multiple inbound signals. It looked like a fourth wave was incoming, which frightened everyone in the bunker. For them, the Turians seemingly paid their disproportionate loss no mind, as if they were just mindless machines, or worse, slaves to another greater alien empire. What kind of general would keep sending men despite losing more than 2000 within a single day?

Credit where credit due though, humanity had seen such idea happened already. A notable example would the Battle of the Somme, where more than 57000 casualties for the British Army alone were noted in the first day. It translated in to nearly 2400 per hours. Reinforcement and replacement were still rushed in despite such a horrendous count, after all, they had reserves. Was there any chance that the same was being applied to the Turians? That those aliens had a deep and rich reserve force behind?

If so, it would be highly terrible fate for humanity… They could win in a single battle despite being outnumbered, but the fight in Zhusanjiao system had already proven with sufficient number, all advantage of humanity would be nothing.

Still, the bridge crew knew their job clearly. They would fight and keep fighting, they would not stop fighting until they died or until the war was won. There was simply no other option. Even if they were captured and tortured, they would keep fighting in any way possible. It would be extremely painful and hard, not to mention their low likelihood in coming home. But, it was a part of the job already.

After all, it was For the Motherland.

The enemy was sending a new wave of landing force to secure their landing zone, also known as the "spaceport which was blown up sky high two hours ago, claiming a crap ton of aliens". To harass the enemy, General Williams send in the recon units, who were still moving into the area, and were expected to arrive there in fifteen minutes, in order to get a clear view of the situation. The destruction of the spaceport meant that the local eyes and ears were lost, and in order to get a grip on the aliens, he needed to re-establish the observation by any means necessary.

Richard knew that he could not keep enemy off the planet, but he might be able to contain it. They could open a new front somewhere else on the planet, he could hopefully tie down some of their assets and bleed them a bit further.

He waited, and then, a few beeping sounds were heard, his recons had arrived. Looking at the screen, he saw live feed coming from the helmets of the soldiers. He saw a large patch of burnt grass, and enemy fighters circling on the sky. There were enemy troops walking around with some kind of prefabricated housing parts on their hands.

Then he saw some shiny Turians walking around and barking orders in board daylight. Seriously? Did they have no fear of snipers, or were they just plain dumb? It did not matter, they were tempting targets for his recon units.

However, these Turians had kinetic barriers, which meant that the first round was guaranteed to be stopped. However, no one could confirm if an anti-material round at the size of 14.5x114mm could be stopped. This was something that needed to be known, but he was unsure if it was right to risk his men's safety for something like this. After thinking for several seconds, he came to a decision and decided that he must find this out. Speaking slowly into the microphone, he gave his first order.

"Archer team, try to target enemy officers. Focus fire on a single target first. We need to figure out how much of those shields can hold against our rounds. Over."

A single affirmative _click_ answered his order. The holo map made by following some kind of video game ( _Modern Warfare_ franchise, he believed) shown one red dot brighter and bigger than anything else. The feed from the helmet camera of a spotter showed the target painted in a light red outline.

Then, three soft voices reported that three shots were fired, and all of them found their mark. The first one made the Turian's barrier "flared up" in a blue aura, the second pierced through it and turned the unlucky (and stupid) officer into a blue fountain. The third one flew right to that misty cloud and hit another trooper right behind him. That soldier, being unprepared and probably using malfunctioned equipment, was punished by and turned into something equally nasty to this commander.

A report from each spotter confirmed the death of two unlucky birds - especially the second one.

Richard scratched his chin. He now knew two things from this engagement. One, the kinetic barrier could be depleted with an anti-material round of 14.5x114mm caliber, High Velocity - High Explosive variant. Smaller calibers may have the same effect but it may need a higher number, though it remained unconfirmed. Two, the Turian were just as frail as humans, especially when they were not covered in armour.

It still presented some problems though. The anti-material rifles were quite rare among his men, and that meant that his regular troops could have a rough time if those shields could hold against a barrage of fire.

It was worrisome, but Richard decided to divulge himself in the small comfort seeing the Turians panic, after recovering from their shock. Seeing their commander become a blue mist would be quite... unnerving... From what he had observed, these Turians were well disciplined, but they seemed to lack experience in proper warfare. Instead of standing around in shock, they should have dived for the ground and called in artillery or the big guns on those frigates. If these Turians were the standard or regulars, the chance for humans to win had increased by a very minor fraction.

However, the problem still remained. Humanity may win this round, but the General knew that at the fighting progressed, the enemy would probably adapt to the situation, and then things would become far more difficult. At least, for the moment, the human was still winning, and it was something worth celebrating. Smiling grimly, he spoke to the recon units:

"Archer Team, hold your fire, and wait for targets of opportunity. Prioritise enemy officers and NCOs if you can identify them. After that, focus on heavy weapons teams, and tech specialists. If spotted, retreat immediately. You are more useful alive than death. Understood? Over."

A few confirmations were heard and Richard looked at the camera feed. The Turians were now hiding behind the prefabricated buildings or shooting wildly into the air. Some tough-looking Turians were screaming at the panicked out ones, and it took them a few minutes to regain control and calm them down. Some had learned quickly, and were giving orders from behind cover, but others were not. Their appearance and actions provided the recon units with information on how the chain-of-command worked for these Turians.

The "grunts" were probably the easiest to identify. Each of them had a very plain-looking armored suit with no markings. The "sergeants" still wore the same grey suits, but had some gold lining on their shoulder pads or on chests plates. Some had up to five strips of gold in total. The "officers" meanwhile was a different story. They had the most colorful amours, usually in red and blue, with the former possibly indicating a higher rank. They were probably equal too low to mid-grade officers in Terran Armed forces hierarchy.

And the dead officer was noted to be wearing a blue suit when he was shot. A blue armor suit with what appeared to be trinkets (or medals) on the chest.

In addition, a few Turians were seen with bright patches on their shoulders or their chest. While no clear pattern had been seen, some of the command crew believed those decorations stand of some kind of specialized skills. It would be immense help to know that the strange newcomers actually know how to use heavy ordnance with just a single glance. It was almost similar to Nazi Germany and Red Army soldiers wearing some medals on the battle dresses – at least that was how it was shown on some World War Two movies. Other friendly would instantly the wearer's achievements, skills and deeds.

The same was applied to the enemy. General Williams had no illusions about that – those shiny Turians were likely the first to die from sniper attacks. If they were lucky to survive that, there would be ambush positions with automatic fire, hard points with anti-material attacks or even improvise explosive devices.

All of this intelligence was passed to units across the planet to inform them which target was more "tempting". If they were able to cripple the enemy's chain-of-command, it would make holding back the invading army easier. However, there was a chance of some determined group soldiers holding off the attacks, just like the old Soviets Red Army in Brest Fortress (Byelorussian SSR, 1941) or the old Japanese Self-Defence Force in Hokkaido (Japan, 2058). He knew that these aliens were disciplined, and he just hoped that they would be disciplined enough to not reach that madness. He said a silent prayer that reinforcements would arrive in time.

He looked at the screen and considered the situation. The Turians were boxed in and around the ruins of the spaceport. Their dropships and fighters were dashing in the air, hoping to find his hidden recon units. However, they just failed miserably in their job – his men were too well-hidden and well-entrenched to be spotted by a causal or normal glance. The breach was contained, for now.


	14. Chapter 13

**Well, this chapter is out sooner, thanks for re-using the texts from the older version of the story. In fact, this chapter is almost the same like in its previous incarnation, sane a few small changes.**

 **This one will be the ground fight, but only from the Turian perspective. It would be a nice change of pace after sticking along with human commanders in the last few chapters. I will not write about the top brass though, their views are not "personal" enough for a fight. Therefore, I would pick the ones of rank and file, the ones who bleed and die.**

 **Desolas and his waifu will re-appear soon, I promise. Saren will still be the only sane one of the family though.**

* * *

 **Reviews' responses:**

 **heartfanglives:** Well, you do want a chapter from the Turian perspective, right? Here it is.

 **OMAC001:** Humans win the opening move, but their advantage is quickly lost after that, and the Turians are able to take the city despite heavy loss.

 **Pteaset:** Thank you for your comment, my faithful reader. Your review really helps me to smile. I do not expect my story to be that good though.

 **EchoSentient:** I wonder if the carnage here has been improved to meet the level required for a warm up in an all-out war...

 **Olav152:** Thanks for your idea. At this point of time, other than Alternate!Desolas, there is no noticeable Turian commander with unorthodox tactics or strategies, at least on the required level to deal with the humans. However, minor improvements, the ones made on the fly or on the front line, will be shown on the Turian. Thanks for the comment on the spaceport too, my idea is to paint the Turian as a highly competent and professional armed force, seeing a praise for it as "better" is heart-warming. For the booby traps of Vietnam War, they will appear, but not here and not now (hint! hint! - Check the last few words and my response for OMAC001 review last chapter)

 **Guest:** Very funny and brave of you to hide behind the anonymous mask of internet.

 **CReaper210:** Thank you for your comment.

* * *

 **"The Breach of Shanxi" - Day 1**

* * *

"Unlike other races, humans do not consider losing a city as a 'lost', at least not as severe as other races of the Citadel Council. The Turians speak of capturing a city or controlling a majority of it as a victory. Though whether the city was in one piece was irrelevant. The Asaris would have surrendered by the time the city gate was breached. They abhorred violence and bloodshed. The Salarians, well, there would be no capturing the city, but there would be capturing the City Hall done by Special Task Group. No one would be wiser by the end of the day. The Quarians had no city to speak of, the Volus, Drell and Hanar... no one was sure about their military doctrines.

The humans? They make up a new school of combat for that - _urban warfare_. A synonym of that word is Hell, terrible after-life. That was a part where they excelled at, even surpassing the Krogans. Don't ask how or why I know all of that."  
\- Urban combat Training, unknown author on an Turian armed forces' online forum

* * *

 **Location:**  
Turian Cruiser _Fist of Thunder_  
Orbiting Shanxi  
Zhusanjiao System (Occupied)  
People's Repulic of United China, Terran Federation (Contested)

 **Time:**  
2501 – 8th Month – 10th Day (Galatic standard)  
Early morning (local time)

Turian General Brutus Oriendas read the report in both shock and anger. Those primitive humans dared to resist the might of Turian Hierarchy! They inflicted tremendous losses to his Eighth Legion. More than three thousand men were killed within a single day. Those... barbarians... primitives... they... they blew up the only spaceport on their homeworld, just to kill fifteen hundred men of his. A spaceport was a highly expensive piece of infrastructure and could take few years to build. However, those humans... just blew it up. It was almost too similar to the Krogan, to deny an enemy the chance to use the facility. The extremely high cost of rebuilding afterwards made the practice undesirable, even the pirates and their four-eye masters still followed this unsung rule.

Yet, the human just blew it off, not as a move made in desperation, but in a deliberate and careful active defense measure. The General would be applauding the audacity of the human if they did not kill thousands of his men and rub it in his face. Now, he was fuming and raging in his own wrath, unable to understand why the human refused to back down and submit to the rule of Turian Hierarchy. After all, it would be a much more beneficial route. The Ring would have the peace they needed to search for the secret ancient weapon, and the humans would have a much better arsenal than what the _suit rats_ could give.

Eezo generators, orbital elevators, omni-tools, omni-gel and a wealth of knowledge and culture, the list was just too long to count. Everything those _beggars_ and _thieves_ had, his proud nation had more and of a higher quality. He just had to stop their futile and insane efforts, and then they would have to see reason. May be sending in the full fist of steel would help. After all, while the Eighth Legion had lost a third of its number, he still had two-thirds left, not to mention other Legions within the armanda.

Right, that was the overall plan. He stood up and watched the planetary map on his omni-tool. If he showed them the full might of the Hierarchy, they would stop, especially when they realised victory was impossible, but how could he do that? It would have to be a show of force so shocking that they would have to surrender to spare the times of those they were trying to protect. A strategic victory, but the target must still be important enough...

He could take their capital!

Yes, if he gathered his troops and managed to take their capital city, and take it with minimal losses while inflicting heavy casualties on the defenders, it would serve a harsh blow to their morale and the humans would have to capitulate. Yes, it was a sound idea. The rest of his legion, roughly 4000 men, and their support, should be more than enough to seize the city and defend it for a few days against any counter-attack until reinforcements could arrive. With the support of friendly Sixth Legion, who was still in full strength, taking the city and securing its population would be easy enough.

The Turian General gathered his staff and they quickly drew up a plan, focusing on a massive attack with armored assault and gunship support. During the said time, the remaining Eighth Legion was sent toward the planet under heavy escort of the Navy. A full varen-pack of frigates was even deployed just to make sure the landing was safe. Lucky for them, there was no major attack launched from the humans. Sure, there was a few sneak attack here and there, but after a mass bombardment, the battlefield returned to its original state – the humans must have been scared off by the display of overwhelming firepower.

After over an hour of consideration and calculation, their plan was done. His first order was to send scouts to the city for recon. He wanted to know what he could possibly expect, and he wanted to have a few civilian deaths here as possible. After all, they were trying to bring these primitives into the civilized galaxy, and it would not work to kill thousands of civilians while trying to show them a better way.

Brutus watched the screen on the bridge. A pair of frigates under fighter escorts was sent flying over the city, scanning the whole area to find anything worth of interest. There was no drone attack noted, may be the humans had already spent all of their fighter wings… Quite a waste, but it worked beautifully enough to take down his force. Then, the reports came back, no human heat signature was detected. It was unlikely that they were able to hide from Turian sensors – their uplift was too recent for them to do that. Therefore, the most probable explanation was that those human civilians were hiding.

Once again, he had to give these humans credit. They understood limiting civilian casualties. They would become productive members of the Hierarchy after they have been assimilated. He signaled the remains of his Legion to advance. The sight of a full armored column moving toward their destination was major to behold. Some Asari bitches would call this overkill, but those blue-skin escorts failed to understand a simple basic fact. This was war, and these primitives would have to learn that they could not stand up to against the Turian Hierarchy.

And to prove it, he gave the order for the frigates pair: destroy the capital below them.

* * *

 **Location:**  
Children's Square  
Commerce district  
Capital city Zhen Zhu (contested - destroyed)  
Planet Shanxi  
Zhusanjiao system (contested)

 **Time:**  
2501 – 8th Month – 10th Day (Galatic standard)  
Mid-morning (local time)

 _Decanus_ [sergent] Legolas Fintus stood in the landing craft, taking a glance at his _contuberium_ [squad] of eight green recruits. Granted, they liked to think that they were not exactly green as they had already received the training at camps. However, they had yet to draw any blood or take part in any operation, which made them "green" in Legolas's eyes. Compared to them, he had already had a few years of service under his belt, and while it was not exactly front line action, it was still enough for him to have learned a few things. Aim first, then fire, or you would look like an idiot wasting valuable time, and causing your rifle overheating. If you saw a grenade, roll away, or your shield would be drained and you would be dead sooner.

Glancing at the ceiling of the drop ship, he read the motto of the technician, "If your ship gets blown out off on the sky, it will not be because of a technical malfunction". It was a very chilling boast. It was correct, but still... It was too bloody and too much of dark humor – not for Legolas though, he was in the force long enough to appreciate it.

The ship rocked slightly, signaling that his ship had entered the atmosphere of the planet. Stupid _suit rat_ s! They could have laid low and be quiet, saving him this deployment and giving him some nice and easy relaxing vacation. But no, they uplifted some primitive aliens and all _pyjaks_ like that, forcing his task force, and by extension, him, to intervene and deliver the punishment.

At least it was only the suit rats and their pets. There was no way they could cause any trouble for the overwhelming firepower of the Turian Hierarchy anymore. After all, the High Command had just proved their prowess by demolishing the capital city on this planet. Sure, those pesky aliens were able to maul his Eighth Legion heavily, just to lose their capital city in a blazing flame. Seeing such a devastated scene, the morale of the enemy would have plummeted by now. The only job left for him and his men was probably stepping off the drop ship and begin sweeping the city for any survivors and begin patrolling. The operation was expected to end somewhere between two to four weeks. While it was quite long for his lazy _contuberium_ , it was sufficient, especially when everyone would get some shore leave afterwards.

The shaking of the ship increased tremendously, with red lights flashing in the cabin, over the public adress system, everyone was asked to strap in, due to aerial turbulence. However, Legolas paid them no mind. He stood tall and straight, with one hand holding his rifle and the other gripping a handle hanging from the ceiling. Ten minutes of awful and violent shaking made a couple of his _Peditatus_ [Privates] look like they were about to puke.

 _Let them puke_ , he though. It would be better for them to let it go than holding things in. It was right most of the time, and this might be one of those times...

The unlucky troopers were able to control themselves and their puke, which Legolas found such impossibility amazing. His mother still embarrassed him in front of his younger siblings with the fact that he vomited a lot when he was younger... Ah, nostalgia... Blinking his eyes a few times, he looked at his men again. They all looked half eager and half afraid. Good, it meant they were not stupid. After all, he was having the same feeling himself.

The ship had stopped shaking (violently) a few seconds ago. Now, the ship was descending through the clouds and approaching the ground. Through the windows, Legolas watched the ruined city outside. It was probably very beautiful once, at least until his commander decided to bomb it to oblivion. Now, there was only rubble there. A few "spikes" remained standing. But those were also covered in soot and smoke, and would probably fall by the end of the day.

What a pity...

Black smoke was rising from the ground, fire was blazing in a corner of the city, some birds were flying away in haste and fear, and that happened before he landed. Well, what were these primitives called again? Hu-mang? Hu-mon... No... human, right, human. These humans, if they wanted to blame the Hierarchy for destroying their capital, they should blame those suit rats instead. After all, those thieves and beggars uplifted their pathetic race without permission in the very first place.

Bah, he would leave the exact details for the brass. He was just a soldier fighting as he was ordered. He had his job to do, and someone else had their own. For now, he wanted to focus on his task: securing this wretched planet.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke out loud

"Men, listen up. Remember your training. Move fast, stay low, aim sharp, then rinse and repeat. Remember that, and you will be home with your loved ones before you even realise it. Understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

They were still nervous, but at least they seemed a little less afraid now, which was fine to him. Courage was not the absence of fear, but facing that fear and overcoming it. Those were the words of wisdom spoken by his father. He was a good and brave man... Legolas knew that his dad would not rise above the rank of an _Optio_ due to the lack of connections and favours, but it did not mean his men had no respect for him. _Spirits_ , his old man was considered one of the best commanders, possible the best one, on their planet for five years in a row.

Legolas just wanted to be as great as him...

He gazed out the window of the dropship again, and what he saw surprised him greatly. There were still some buildings and other structures intact, like the statue in the square. It was the statue of some... younglings, or children, probably, of these humans. Some were wearing something like shorts and other was having skirts on them. To be honest, minus the biological appearance, they looked just like some statues of Turian children.

It was strange. Amidst a ruined city, a statue, or a group of statues to be more precise, was still standing. Statues of children playing and having fun. The golden color glimmering under the sunset looked completely out of place to the rubble around. What a sick joke of fate... His dropship was slowly touching down on the square, just a dozen meters of so from the statue...

KA-BOOM!

"ARGH!"

"HMM!?"

CHUNK!

"Urghhh..."

Legolas suddenly found himself being thrown up into the ceiling and his ship was pushed upward into the air. The unlucky ship fell down, hard, to the ground and rolled over a few times. Inside the bay, Legolas was hit every surface, from the floor to the ceiling, from the left wall to the right. His head banged on the wall and collided with the troopers inside. Finally, the rolling stopped with the dropship's being the ceiling and Legolas lying painfully on the bay's ceiling.

His blurred vision faded away along with the throbbing pain. Grabbing his head and grunting, he tried to stand up and failed miserably. He was shocked and dizzy, his balance off completely. Something was shuffling near him; the banging sound of metal against metal was heard. He even faintly heard the sounds of some kind of explosion, but he had no idea what they were... He was too disoriented to think or act clearly. The last time he felt this kind of headache was when he celebrated his high school graduation and woke up the following day in a jail cell. That was a long story, and probably better saved for another day.

Slowly, his vision returned, but not after what felt like a century. The first thing he felt was something sticky near his eyes... It was blood. Turian blood. It was probably his own due to an injury. Turning around, he was planning to rally his men and get out of the dropship when he saw the grim, brutal truth. His men were all dead. Yes, none of them survived the explosion. Their "Killed in Action" reports were flooding his omni-tool. Eight men, eight reports. No, it was ten, the pilot and co-pilot were also killed.

He tried to sit up, what he saw scared him greatly. It was a gruesome scene. All of them were still strapped in their own seats and dripping blood onto the ground. A hole, as big as two fists combined, was seen on the ground (or the "ceiling" in this case). Shrapnel and fragments scattered all around him. Luckily, the hole was closer to the front of the ship than to the rear, where he was standing. Just a few meters off and he would be minced.

A chill ran down his spine when he looked at his dead men closely.

"Spirits..."

The men closest to the hole were... burnt off, somehow. Their faces were blackened, if not outright burnt by... something. Probably by the heat coming in through the hole. The others fared not much better. Some had the back of their heads bloodied and broken due to violent collision with the wall. Some were punctured by the fragments of metal; grey and black pieces buried in their suits. Those men had probably not activated their barriers beforehand, despite being instructed during the mission briefing... If _Primus Pilus_ "Gory" was here, he would say that they died due to their own stupidity... Still, they were his men.

However, the more he watched, the more he baffled. What... But... _Spirits!_ What happened? His drop ship was certified as "sufficient" before deploying into action. They must… They must have been who in their right mind could attack the armed forces of Turian Hierarchy?

Right, those _suit rats_ and their _pets_.

Grunting, Legolas brought himself up and opened the ramp door. Normally, the ramp would open automatically "downward" toward the ground, but as the ship had already been turned upside down and the power off, he manually opened it, with the hatch going "upward". At least it could provide some cover from incoming firepower from above. Hopefully.

The door had yet to open fully, but he had already heard the fight going on outside. The chilling sound of the Mass Effect rounds was almost drowned in the deafening thunder of these strange weapons. He was not sure what they were, but they could be kinetic-based, as they had a very distinctive sound and had seen antique ones from Palaven's past still, and heard the clinking sounds on the ship hull. However, these rounds probably would not be as effective as Mass Effect weaponry, as the kinetic barriers would still hold.

Hmpf, well, these primitives just got lucky. They only killed his men because they were unprepared and green. Legolas had to credit them that, but he still had no idea how they blew up his drop ship (or how he actually survived that attack). However, he had no time to think.

When the ramp door had opened up enough, he rushed forward, hiding behind another dropship. Crouching behind and shooting his Munifex in a direction he believed fire was coming from, he nudged another soldier's shoulder, making him turn around, just in time as a few rounds streaking through where his head was a few seconds earlier. As a fair note, his shield had just drained. Talk about being lucky...

"Yes, sir?" the soldier asked.

"Who is the commander here?"

Legolas asked, trying to be heard over the sound of gunfire.

"I have no idea, sir! Our _contuberium_ 's _Decanus_ was killed when just stepped off the dropship. We were just firing blindly here, and... where's your squad, sir?"

"...They were dead trooper... Where is the rest of your squad?"

"On the other side of this dropship, sir. They were able to reach a wall that surrounded this square."

"And where is Gamma _Contuberium_?"

" They are all behind your dropship and fighting to hold back the second prong of these humans' attack."

Well, it was not too bad. They were holding their ground against the attack, or the ambush. However, there was one thing bugging Legolas...

"Why, in the spirits' names, aren't these humans being rooted out?"

Sitting tight in one place would not be productive or safe in the long-run. These humans were shooting at the policing force, directly violated Citadel's law. They had to be punished, and a quick check confirmed that his kinetic barrier was on and at full charge. The _Discens_ next to him also had his gun and barrier recharged.

Good. Time to fight.

Wiring his omni-tool into the shared signal of Gamma _Contuberium_ , he spoke into the microphone

"Gamma _Contuberium_. This is _Decanus_ Fintus, I'm assuming control as the highest ranking available non-commissioned officer in the vicinity. Any objection?"

There was only silence that answered him. The thundering sounds of enemy fire and the clanking sounds of bullets hitting the wall were still present along with the streaking sound of the Turian guns. A battle was still raging, forcing him to take matters into his own hands quickly. After three seconds and no one voicing their oppositions, he became their commander from this moment on.

"Heavy weapons: suppressive fire. The rest cover him. On my mark... Mark."

The sound of friendly gun fire suddenly flared up, mixing in with the thunder coming from human's line. Going around the dropship, he rushed toward a half-blown concrete wall surrounding the square. Taking a peak to observe any enemy positions, he was surprised. Instead of a reinforced bunker (or anything like that), everything he saw was just plain rubble. Grey rocks and scorched debris were all around. Where, in the spirits' names, were those humans hiding?

Eyes following the blue darts of light flying through the air, he noticed a specific position was being hammered by the heavy weaponry. It was a window on the second floor, belonging to a demolished building. Assuming the heavy weapon expert was aiming correctly (which he hoped), Legolas had no idea about which he should found amazing: the fact that these humans were able to camouflage their position expertly, or the fact that they were fighting from inside a ruined and half-demolished position, totally going against Turian combat doctrine.

It did not really matter. They were hostile; therefore, they must be dealt with. However, he only had a general idea where the enemy was staying, and not who could be in there or where precisely. They were somewhere in that rubble, but where exactly? No, finding and flushing them out would be too costly, not to mention that they were pinned down here. He needed some kind of fast and hard solution. Coincidentally, he knew the answer. A squadron of fighters happened to be near here - of course, the fact their leader was his old friend was just a happenstance.

"This is Gamma _Contuberium_ calling Sigma Squadron, do you copy? Over."

A few moments of static, then, the voice of his old friend was heard. "This is Sigma Squadron. I hear you loud and clear... Legolas, I though you are in command of Charlie _Contuberium_. Over."

"I was, Ambrosianus, I was..."

"... Understood. Let me guess, you need fire support?"

"Affirmative Sigma. The rubble is being marked on your tactical map right now. They were pinning us hard and well-camouflaged. Requesting air strike."

"Copy that Gamma. Inbound time: two minutes."

"Roger, two minutes."

Legolas let out a relief sigh. While some would probably call him a coward, fighting against a camouflaged opponent while you were being pinned was not bravery, it was simply stupidity. He could accept the craziness to achieve victory, but he would not agree with the fools wining a battle with a high casualty rate. Gamma _Contuberium_ continued to fire on the rubble, even if the only reason was to convince the enemy into thinking that the Turians would break out on their own. Well, it sucked to be them when Sigma Squadron arrived.

Two minutes of constant bullets trading (and no one was seriously injured, what a relief) had passed and the Sigma Squadron swooped in like a bird of prey, unleashing a hailstorm of bullets and missiles. The sounds of explosion filled the air, temporarily overwhelmed every other sound. Orange flame, once more, engulfed the rubble, reducing it to... more rubble. Whoever had been in there rubble before would surely be dead by now. He was right. There were no more gun shots coming from that direction anymore. The ambush on this side had been neutralised. Good riddance.

The Squadron turned around and ran a strafing run on the other end of the square. From the cheering he heard, the Delta _Contuberium_ was probably being hit hard and was under serious threat. The relief from Sigma Squadron could be seen as divine intervention, saving them from the enemy hostiles. The square was finally secured.

This square was considered as vital because the area in and surrounding it could hold a half of a full strength Cohort of nearly 500 men, plus their support. High Command wanted to use this as a secondary command hub to support the main base, and planning on pushing deeper into the capital city. It was the objective of Charlie, Delta and Gamma _Contuberium_ was to seize and secure this square, which they had done. This would mean possible awards and promotion due to the fact that they were the first landing party here.

Just in time too, he was kind of hoping for a retirement with some nice perks.

Suddenly, two streaks of white smoke appeared from outside his eye sight, moving toward his friend's fighter. What? They were... missiles? What kind of missiles? They were small, possibly carried on shoulder, but what kind of shoulder-carried missile packed enough power to deal with a Turian fighter? The answer came instantly: the ones he was watching.

His friend's fighter barely had enough time to notice the incoming threats, let alone dodge, and was destroyed in a ball of flame. The other pilots were shocked to the core, not making any maneuvers as they normally would. Thanks spirits that those men were able to regain the control of themselves, or today would end with more than one pilot of Sigma Squadron dead.

In anger, the surviving members of the squadron split into two flights, and went toward the origin of those missiles, aiming to avenge their commander. Legolas watched that scene grimly. He had to credit their bravery of whoever fired those, but no matter how much he respected that, they were still his enemy, forcing him to neutralise, capture or kill them. However, the job did not have to be in that precise order.

Unfortunately, the shock of losing his friend was nothing like what we was about to see.

The sky was suddenly filled with bright shining streaks of light. They were orange and yellow... and the fighters were literally torn apart. Originally, the squadron had eight fighters, now, only one survived the onslaught with heavy damage. Black smoke and blue fire was seen flickering out of this fighter. The craft flew toward the direction of the spaceport, hoping to land in friendly territory. However, that hope was for naught as it came crashing down a few moments later.

What?! A full squadron slaughtered by a bunch of primitives? Legolas and his men were shocked into silence. Some even stood up amidst the quiet battlefield, dumbstruck by the carnage they had just witness.

On their right, a few hundred meters away, a glittering light was seen, but went unnoticed by the Turians. Legolas had been seen wearing a red-blue armoured suit with golden bars on his collar. The Turians knew that it was standard issued suit for an officer, but for the men on the other side, he was simply screaming "Shoot me please", and shoot him, they did.

Two rounds, each a .50cal, were fired. Just like the sniper attack at the spaceport, the first round brought the kinetic barriers to half charge and the second finished the unlucky Turian officer. Legolas was shot at his centre of mass and flew completely to one side, further startling his men. He just laid there, on the ground, as shocked as his men.

He could not believe what just happened. A full squadron wiped out, a _contuberium_ was lost even before combat. The enemy focused fire on commanders. Ineffective and outdated weapons were still able to killed men with kinetic barrier. There, with blood oozing out from his lower chest, Legolas whispered quietly, just enough for him alone to hear. "Was it the right thing?"

Then, his world turned black. _Decanus_ Legolas Fintus was officially "Killed in Action". However, he could be considered a lucky man. He had a quick and (relatively) painless death. Moreover, he was killed shortly after a firefight, when the enemy's death was yet to be confirmed. It was much better than what his men would face in a few days.

* * *

 **Location:**  
Central Square  
Administrative District  
Capital City Zhen Zhu (contested)  
Planet Shanxi  
Zhusanjiao System (contested)

 **Time:**  
2501 – 8th Month – 10th Day (Galatic standard)  
Mid-morning (local time)

 _Evocati_ [Private First Class] Sisvus Octavilinus ducked in a bomb crater, cursing his terrible luck for the third time in the last ten minutes. Reports were coming in from the second task force. Things seemed to be in a somewhat better shape there than here. He did not know if he should relieved or curse (for the fourth time). Charlie _Contuberium_ 's drop ship was lost due to mines. Spirits, what kind of army was still using mines these days? They were ineffective and easy to be spotted and neutralised. If Sisvus was correct, the Hierarchy had already stopped using them years ago... and these primitives used them as "standard" weapon.

Charlie _Contuberium_ lost a dropship due to mines in that small square, but the mines had already destroyed at least three dropships here. While Alpha, Bravo and Omega were landing, those mines were activated, wiping out the entire task force completely. This forced the commander to send in the second wave, which included him. Looking at the battered and scorched first wave, he almost did not want to fight. However, enemy anti-air fire just ripped apart his dropship, grounding him and his unit effectively.

Those bullets... were real brutes. The enemy had at least three heacy guns in the area. Sisvus had no idea what they were made of, but those rounds were effective against both dropships and troopers. Smoking wreckage and half-destroyed bodies were the proof for that... Oh spirits! They were real monsters! What kind of races was responsible for such savagery? Even the Krogan used the Mass Effect based weapons during their rebellion, which would only leave a clean hole behind. The enemy would still be dead, just much neater when compared to this... massacre.

The burnt grass was now covered with the blue blood of dead Turian soldiers. Debris of destroyed dropships littered the ground, knocking down the trees, or became burning mass graves for the unlucky souls.

All of this happened in less than twenty minutes. Spirits! Command had already checked and said that there was no one in this city before they began this campaign. How could there be any kind of resistance now? What kind of race could fight with this kind of relentlessness in a ruined city? The Krogan came close. From what he had read, they were even worse on Tuchanka and during the Rebellion.

These primitive aliens... Killing them would be probably a favour to the galaxy.

But to do that, Sisvus would have to survive first. However, that would be a major challenge as he could not raise his head due to the blanket of fire overhead. While it was not precisely continuous, it was more than enough to pin everyone down where they were. While Sisvus's kinetic barrier could take a few of those bullets, he was pretty sure that five could drain the shield and the sixth would turn him into a blue fountain. That image alone was more than enough to encourage him sticking close to the ground.

"Hey! Are you alive?"

Sisvus turned to the side to see his _Decanus_ , Brius Calptus, crawling on the ground toward him. Nodding instead of answering, he slightly turned his body to have an easier chat with the leader. Behind Brius were a few more Turian troopers from different units. They probably came together after being shot down by the ambush. Tough luck it was...

Everyone was afraid, losing multiple friends in less than an hour... Life must be harsh for them...

"OK... I think we have enough men now. Listen up. See the two-story building on the right?"

He motioned with his head and kept speaking.

"There is a hole in the wall. We'll move in and flank these pyjaks, clearing the danger for the next wave. Command just informed me that we will have armoured support for that. So, keep those dropships safe and we'd live and see the night. Questions?"

"How could we move in? The only cover we have now is this bomb crater. Getting out means we have no cover, and I don't want to die yet."

"How many smoke grenades do you have?"

Then it was decided. The makeshift unit of merely six troopers would throw up a smokescreen, covering their quick advance to the half-demolished buildings. Once inside, they would clear out the enemy. As those heavy weapons were focusing on the outside, hitting them from the rear should be fairly easy as they would not suspect or expect it from the beginning. Hopefully.

Throwing the smoke grenades, the ground in front of the half-destroyed and burning square was quickly covered in a thick layer of smoke. The view of the heavy weapon nest quickly faded away behind the grey-coated air. Six men rushed to one side while their friends were stood up to cover them. Then, hell broke loose, again.

Their friends were cut down, one by one. Some had their arms blown off, while some had their legs cut away. However, some would say they were luckier than the ones got shot in the torso. Those unfortunate soldiers were turned into a blue mist or had a large gaping hole appear. He had no idea how those primitives were still able to fire that accurately. It was either those aliens were highly lucky, or they were equipped with inferred vision. To be honest, Sisvus had no idea which one was worse. However, this was not the time to stop and think. He had to press on and avenge his fallen comrades.

Jumping through the hole on the wall with the make-shift unit, six men moved forward along the hallway. The view inside was not exactly... pleasant. The bombing run earlier had practically destroyed a good portion of the building complex. The section he was walking in now was some kind of a restaurant. He saw tables and chairs around the hall, most of them were already scorched or damage. Only a few left standing and remaining in some degree of cleanness. On the floor, chunks of dark grey debris were scattered, crunching under his boots every time he walked over.

It was quiet... too quiet.

That kind of silence was not a good one, rather, it was something... wrong. Sisvus was never a man of literature, but he still vaguely remembered some "serious" words and that only mentioning them was more than enough to tell that the situation was terrible. It was like the solid organic waste was about to collide with the Rotational Air Circulation Device...

The "restaurant section" ended, leading to a staircase with a beautiful rug (or what left of it) in the middle. The enemy heavy weapon nest was on the balcony of the second floor. That meant climbing the stairs. While it looked pretty far and high up, they could at least faintly hear the sounds of this weapon barking nearby. They were close to it now.

Quickly going up the stairs, someone let out a sigh of relief.

"You know, I think these primitives have already retreated. There should be no one here, and that weapons nest is probably controlled by a VI."

"What makes you say that?"

"So far, no one has attacked us yet."

Sisvus was planning to say something smart to shut that man down before he saw something dropping in front of his eyes: something green-grey and cylindrical shape, with some kinds of holes on the body. Oh, there were _three_ of them.

Huh?

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three continuous deafening sounds boomed, deafening him to everything but the buzzing sound in his ears (and brain), accompanied with a blinding flash of light that took out his vision. His eyes felt like someone just flash burn them with fire and then pushed a flaming rod into each one of them. While he was still covering his eyes with his hands, Sisvus felt like he was pushed back by a tremendous force. He fell backwards, with his head banging on the staircase a couple times. There was something, or someone, heavy lying on his chest.

He just laid still (he was pretty sure about the part being knocked down) and had no idea what was happening. When he finally found out...he wished he had not. Of the six men who had come inside the building, but only three were alive now, and one was critically injured. Sisvus was stunned, somehow, the kinetic barriers did not keep them alive long enough. Those enemies were able to defeat or break down three fully-charged barriers, and drain at least one more.

How, in the name of the beloved spirits, did that happen?

Speaking of which, where were those humans, or if they were even humans at all? Sisvus had heard tales about Quarian Marines. In public, no self-respecting Turian would praise them, but privately, no smart and experienced soldier would badmouth or insult the Quarian Marines' combat capability. Yes, that had to be right, the Turians were not policing a primitive race uplifted by the Migrant Fleet, they were fighting against the _suit rats_ themselves! That was the only plausible explanation.

On top his chest, something stirred and grunted. Oh, that heavy piece of whatever-it-was was Brius. Guess that meant there were officially two Turians in one piece here now. The third, barely alive, Turian was the same one who said that no one had attacked them. Yet. Heavy emphasis on the word "yet".

" _Decanus_ , are you alright?"

"If you define 'alright' as feeling like having been rolled over by a tank, splashed in the face with an Eezo cloud and staying under an oven... Then, yes, I'm perfectly fine."

Brius got to his feet, and he instantly gave out the order

"Get up _Evocati_. The way is clear now; the enemy had retreated. Check that trooper to see if he can move. If not, stabilise him."

"Yes sir."

Sisvus stood up after Brius had rolled off. Almost dragging himself to the injured soldier, he almost felt pity. That guy was seriously injured. His entire chest was shredded into pieces, just like what a _varren_ would do to a fresh chunk of meat, albeit slightly _messier_. Sensing the gaze of his Beneficiarii, he just turned around and shaked his head sadly. Brius seemed surprise but quickly gave a grim nod. Losing men was regrettable, but such was the basis of war.

Sighing, Sisvus gave the dying soldiers some painkillers at a high dose. The injured Turian suddenly jerked up and gave a weak smile while eyeing a gun nearby. Following his gaze, Sisvus's eyes suddenly darkened. However, it was the dying wish of a brave trooper. Who was he to deny it?

Putting an assault rifle in his comrade's hand, he stood up straight and saluted the brave soldiers. He just received a grim nod and a smirk in return. What was worse was that Sisvus did not even know his name.

The last two Turian soldiers stood up and ran up the stairs. Their eyes darted to both sides, almost wanting not to look back. They buried their sadness and despair simply by being "good soldiers". Sisvus cursed silently. He would have this building blown up to avenge his fallen comrades, one way or another.

There was a beeping sound coming from Brius's omni-tool. It looked like an incoming order or report was coming in. The _Decanus_ skimmed through it before turning to Sisvus without even stopping.

"Alright Evocati. I have a message from Command. The third wave, composing of armoured units and being escorted by a large contingent of fighters, is coming down. They will be more than enough to take care of these heavy weapon nests. However, if we could eliminate any of them, it would relief some pressure on our forces in the square. What do you think? Retreat and let the big guns do their job, or push on and avenge our fallen comrades?"

Sisvus gave a predator smile and reply with some bloodlust in his voice.

"Forward, sir. It's what we do best. We press on, we move forward."

"Well said, _Evocati_. Well said."

They moved up, clearing room to room. However, they found nothing. No resistance, no documents and no trace of life. It was almost as if those attackers had vanished after killing four Turians in a flash. The only good news was that they were coming close to their objective. The thundering sound was very clear now, and he was even able to hear some kind of clinking and clanking sounds mixed among that. What could it possibly be?

They still went up, checking every corner with both haste and care to the best of their ability. Finally, they reached a pair of giant doors made from a brown wood, or what looked like brown wood. They were fairly large. Sisvus was sure that each door was as wide as his arms' reach. Regarding the height, he believed that it would be as tall as three Turians standing on top of each other. What made it even more interesting was how it opened. He saw that these humans appreciated classical as well: the doors could be opened by a handle.

A bronze-coloured handle with detailed sculptures on it, no less.

He was reaching for the handle when Brius suddenly grabbed his hand and shaked his head silently. The _Decanus_ simply whispered in his ear one word, "Trap." It was plausible. Those wretched suit rats had tricked him not long ago, and he would not put it past them to doing it again. They could have placed a mine or some other trap of sorts by the door which would activate when he turned the handle. Bad luck then... Brius pulled something off his back. It was a breaching charge. Silently placing it on the wall, the _Decanus_ saw to a viscous smile appeared on Sisvus's face.

"Do what the enemy expect of you in an unexpected way."

Brius whispered quietly again, either to himself of for the benefit of this trooper. Sisvus mused, wondering why he had not thought about that earlier. Probably because he had no breaching charge...

Standing behind the _Decanus_ , he lightly nudged his shoulder, signaling he was ready. A few seconds later, the wall was breached by an explosion, pushing the debris inward. Wasting no time, both Turian troopers rushed in with guns at the ready, to fire at the enemy inside with surprise and sheer volume of fire power. It was a sound tactic, if only there was an enemy to be seen inside the room. None. Not even the one manning the heavy weapon.

Yep, it was the unlucky soldier all over again.

He saw some kind of black turret with four "arms", with two guns on each side. It was one of those heavy weapons. Now, closer, he had the chance to look it over. Firstly, he positive that it was not a Mass Effect based weapon. While it was still a kinetic projectile weapon, it relied on the "old" model of chemical combustion of sort. The Turian Hirerachy had used them for centuries before discovering the Prothean Data cache and turned to the newer and better weapons. The clanking sound he heard earlier were the empty bronze cylinders dropping to the ground.

Yep, they were combustion based weapon. Those... cartridges? He believed it was the right word... Those cartridges were still warm and smoking lightly while rolling on the ground. The air in the room was filled with some kind of burning smell. It was not outright toxic or annoying for him, just... different. He was used to odorless Mass Effect weaponry, so being close to such a primitive weapon was a real experience.

What surprised him the most a switch connected to the heavy weapon nest. What kind of stupidity was this? They left an "on-off switch" for a heavy weapon? Looking down at the switch, Sisvus observed it, just to be sure. It was a black box with a silvery switch on it. At the moment, the switch was on the side of the word with the alien phrase "ON" written next to it. In addition, a red blinking light could also be seen nearby. To be honest, he felt pity for these aliens. These people did not even have omni-tools, but their masters could use them with ease?

Glancing at each other and then shrugging, they stepped forward and scanned the room, just to be sure that it was clear of any surprises. Then, Sisvus moved forward to the wooden table with the black box on it and flip the switch. Instantly, the turret turned silent, or this one at least. Two more heavy-weapon nests in the area were still firing, but this one was deactivated, at least. The clanking sound also stopped and light on the black box "jumped" to the other side of the switch, coloured green.

Letting out a relief sigh, Sisvus turned around, facing his Beneficiarii and said, "Mission acc..."

 _Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!_

His sentence was cut short with a new hailstorm of bullets... blowing _through_ the wall and the smaller door inside. His shield was drained quickly, and he quickly felt something piercing on his armoured suit, and then his chest. Strangely, he did not felt any pain, despite being shot at. Turning his head to the side, he quickly found out that Brius had suffered the same fate. Both Turian troopers were laying on the ground bleeding out.

"Spirits..." Brius whispered quietly before finally laying still.

Sisvus was in a real state of shock. He knew he was just shot at, but he had no idea how that had happened. However, he did not have much time to think or wonder. The small door on the side suddenly opened up with a bang, revealing... a black tracked drone, used for ground combat. Grunting, he tried to angling his body in order to see it better, and he quickly wished he did not do that.

That drone was probably based on the same build as the heavy turret outside. However, instead of being a major piece of black metal and carrying four big guns, it was much smaller and only had two smaller arms. However, despite being smaller, that did not mean it was weaker, as proven by his dead _Decanus_ and his injuries. The drone just rolled toward him on its tracks, and bent slightly downward, almost as if looking down on him in pity. Sisvus would love nothing more than grabbing his rifle and blowing that ugly droid's head off. However, he was too injured.

 _What will happen to me_ , Sisvus silently wondered. The "face" of the drone suddenly flared up... No, it was something akin to a screen. On that was the face of an alien. A member of their armed forces if his clothes and headgear were reliable indication. They... The rumour was true, they looked just like a little like the Asari, minus the blue skin and the crests on their head. This universe must have a sense of humour...

The alien spoke, while Sisvus had no idea what he was saying, he quickly understood it thanks to the subtitles on the screen. "Welcome to Shanxi, you motherfucking bitches!"

The drone opened fire again before he had any chance of saying anything. Sisvus became the newest name on the Killed in Action list for the VII Legion that day. He had no idea that the drone had reactivated the heavy-weapon nest, surprising everyone when the third wave arrived. Thinking that the emplacement had been cleared, there was no air strike on that position until it was too late. Later, the third wave would land with bullet holes and scorched marks everywhere. Then, and only then, would the IX Centuria would be able to take control of the Central Square and surrounding blocks. However, they did not know one thing: Sisvus had flipped the switch.

At 1130, Earth Time, the sun was getting high over the Central Square, watching and trying to relax, the Turian soldiers in the surrounding area of the square were engulfed in flame again. While loss of Turian Hierarchy was light, the IX Centuria garrison force was effectively cut off from the advance, the X and VII Centuria. They would surrounded by fire for over two hours before the relief could arrive. The Eighth Legion was officially rated combat inefficient and had to merge with its sibling Legions for the rest of the war. However, its armored units were still intact and hunger for vengeance.

Worse, the breach was still there, and the tanks were now ready to storm through the breach head.


	15. Chapter 14

**Hi guys, I'm finally back here. Sorry for a long time with absolutely no update. I kind of hit a major writer block - and I got stuck in an exam, one lasted for three hours, seven Mechanics questions and 13 A4-sized-paper pages. At least it seemed that I can pass it.**

 **At least I have the new chapter done now. While half of it was recycled from the old version of the story (with little changes), I was able to mesh them together, forming a new update.**

 **This chapter has two perspective, one from a Terran Lieutenant commanding an anti-tank attack, and the other from a Turian Centurion (think Major-equivalent) brooding over the terrific casualty. It would be the last Turian PoV on Shanxi, probably. I wonder if I can ramp up the bloodshed for the second day of fighting on the planet...**

 **And there would be still bloodier stuff - and remember Lord Murphy, things can only go _progressively_ worse.**

 **Still, I wonder how long it would take so that I could have this fic being posted/recommended on TvTropes, or have it being added to some kind of Community on FanFiction-dot-net...**

* * *

 **Reviews' response:**

 **Shaitan Elnefi** : Thank you for your review. The drone's attack is precisely like human's spite - if we go down to hell, we must drag along some monsters with us.

 **ArchAngel319** : Thank you for your review and your support. I hope that this update is able to satisfy your thirst of the next adventure.

 **Pteaset** : Thanks for your praise. I was just trying my best to deliver the best works for you guys.

 **OMAC001** : You want more, right? Though there is not that much death and carnange in this chapter...

 **CReaper** : Thank you for your update, my faithful reader.

 **general-joseph-dickson** : Thank you for your support.

 **The Black-Prince-Thomas** : It was due to historical reason. The last "urban combat" the Turian had was against the Krogan in the Rebellion, those aliens... well, we can say that they were not as ingenious as us humans, which meant that they _charged_ against tank columns, not ambushing like us humans. The rest, as they say, is history. Note that it is only after this chapter that the good Turian commanders (most notably Desolas Arterius) would have a hunch that us humans were more than what they assume us to be. Their wrong assumptions had already cost hundreds of lives though.

 **BridgeBurn100** : Thanks for your intriguing question. As of this moment, only a small part of the Quarian Migrant Fleet was in human's space (offer of fixing and upgrading the ships as token of friendship, and a chance for humans to gather _intelligence_ ). Most of the Fleet was still wandering in their space, and the Quarians visiting the humans were evacuated along with their new friends into deeper parts territory at the moment.

 **Ronin Kenshin** : Thanks for your support.

* * *

 **"The Breach of Shanxi" – Night 1**

* * *

"Do not go gentle into that good night  
Rage, rage against the dying of light."

\- Dylan Thomas (1914 - 1953), poet, writer of [old] Wales, part of [old] United Kingdom

* * *

 **Location:**  
Intersection of 6th and 18th Road  
Commerce District  
Capital city Zhen Zhu (contested – destroyed)  
Planet Shanxi (contested)  
Zhusanjiao system

 **Time:**  
18:00 (Terran Standard Time) – 20:00 (Local time)  
22 February 2201

The night set down once more on Shanxi. However, this time, the city was not basked in darkness but enshrined in fire. Pre-fabricated buildings were lit up, leaving the flame to slowly eating away their structure. Wreckages of cars and bikes littered the ground, all of them was crushed into pieces. Some of them were buried under the debris, while some were crushed under the treads of alien tanks.

Yes, tanks. Or at least, what could be passed as tanks. They had more similar features to human's Main Battle Tanks (MBTs) with a long, sick barrel of gun as well as heavily looking armoured. That was where the similarities stopped though. The alien tanks, at a glance, were much smoother than its human counterpart. There was no clear distinction between the turret housing and the main body, the sensors and machine gun-equivalent were not visible. In fact, a few pairs of eyes were wondering if the Turians had actually not putting any sensors and HMGs on their tanks.

No one knew why, and none had the strength and stamina to look for the answer. The reason for that was simple. The First Squad, Gryffindor Platoon, Hogwarts Company of 75th Ranger Battalion was ordered to reconnaissance in force against a Turian armored unit parking in the main intersection of Commerce District. They were ordered to test and find out the toughness of those machines, paving the way for the counter attack.

Earlier, scouts and snipers originated from 54th Special Purpose Brigade had already confirmed the presence of infantry-graded individual shields. Each shield could absorb the energy equivalent to a 14.5x114mm, which was quite high and powerful. Sure, the Turian was thrown back due to the conservation of momentum and he was promptly finished off with a second shot, but the point remained: individual shield was able to put up a great resistance against small arms. The question here was to see how strong the vehicle-graded shield was. In other words, it was asking how many missiles or how much explosive it would need to break through the shields, and how much more to destroy those vehicles. High Command and General Williams had tasked Gryffindor Platoon with that task.

In short, they were test subjects, or lab rats for a more mundane and normal person. On the other hand, they were supported by their (arsehole) comrades coming from Slytherin Platoon. While the lions were specialized in demolition and use of explosive, the snakes enjoyed their superiority with infiltration and marksmanship. Needless to say, the noise and the silence could hardly go together, which made them continuously sassing each other. At least it was in good spirit and they knew when to stop, and in combat situations like this, it was required to shut up and focus on their jobs.

Lieutenant Harrison "Scarhead" Potter, Platoon leader, led this mission himself, bringing a bit more sophisticated equipment and co-ordination to the field. He slowly opened the door leading to the rooftop of an apartment. Through the opened gap, he used his rifle to scan in all direction, checking to see if there was any hostile nearby. Luckily, there was none being found. The scanner attached on his helmet also reported nothing out of usual. At least nothing unusual for a building being cut perfectly in half in a vertical direction.

Well, he had seen stranger things before, including a situation with his Marine neighbor trying to make bacons with a napalm thrower. She survived, but not her undergarments, and she became his cousin's wife (long story).

Anyhow, after making sure that there was no hostile around the destination, he spoke into the internal microphone inside his helmet, the signal of which was transferred with a short-range radio device to the friends behind. The all clear message was given out. From the shadow, three more figures appeared, one carrying a missile launcher, one more with its ammunition, and the last one brought standard anti-infantry weapon (read: guns) to the fight. In two nearby buildings, the other two fireteams were doing the same. All of them were part of First Squad, Gryffindor Platoon, and they would be the one making a surprise attack on the unsuspecting Turians. The mondus operandi was simple enough, yet deadly and useful in the same time. They divided where they placed the firepower, but they focused the attack on a single target.

The idea was not exactly new, but it was not exactly the conventional military tactics, at least not before (mass) deployment of self-propelled guns against counter-battery radars. The Second Battle of Dien Bien Phu showed tremendous success of such tactics, just like in the first where the Viet Minh independence movement fought against French colonizer army. The scattering and constant movement of the artillery batteries kept the defenders from mounting an effective counter attack, and destroyed their morale as well as their supply depots, which eventually led to their eventual defeat.

While the anti-tank missile batteries used by Terran Federation were not artillery used by the old nation-states of Earth, the sentiment was similar enough. If the soldiers spread them over a sufficiently large area, it would give enough troubles for the Turians to mount a counter-attack. Of course, the aliens could simply level the whole area and go back to sleeping. But in the end, they would require an attack too large to cover all of the launcher in the single strike, and even if they were able to make the attack small and concentrated enough, the Turians would still be unable to destroy all anti-tank weapons of Terran Federation in this specific skirmish.

The night was quiet, very quiet. There was nothing but the occasional sound of fire popping. The power was cut off, both by deliberate sabotage and by the destruction of the power generating site. Still, it felt as if the whole city was sleeping because of power loss and not by the destruction brought by war. Of course, that was assuming the birds also slept at night… If they were predators in the beginning of their evolution history, well, Harry hoped they would be quick in their executions. But now, he had little time to worry and to dream, he had tanks to kill.

Whispering into the microphone, he requested the reports from his squad. The crisp tone, posh and accented, was kept inside the helmet and transmitted clearly over the net:

"This is Claw-Actual, report. Over."

"This is Claw-2, the weapon is set."

"This is Claw-3. We are done. Over"

"This Claw-Actual. Acknowledge, all done. Prep the missiles and launch on my mark. Target: the farthest one on the right, next to the demolished coffee kiosk. Over."

Confirmations were sounded on the radio net. The missile operator of the fireteam was shouldering his weapon, aiming downrange. The tracking and targeting sensors had not been turned on yet, so there was only the electronic-enhanced scope to assist. While the process was practically and fully stealthy, its accuracy was fairly low, especially when the distance was over six hundred meters. At that range, without the support of a scope, aiming was virtually impossible, that was even before considering the usage of ECM and other active protective systems installed on the tank.

Scarhead gave a new order, all three missile operators switched on their sensors to lock on the target in the same time. Laser, infrared, ultraviolet, optical signature, heat traces… Every single method that could be potentially was used to guide the missiles. It was used to ensure the target to be hit and hopefully destroyed with a single salvo. If the enemy was paying attention to their read-out, their boards would be lit up like Christmas trees now. The Terrans were able to gain a lock on the Turian tanks, but in doing so, they also told the aliens of the impending danger.

Acceptable trade off then, it had been the way since the beginning of guided ammunitions. Developments had been made in both the tactics and technology, but a simple truth remained the same: a locked target would always know he was being locked.

Then, with a new order, three flashes of light were launched on the sky of darkness. While they were not equal to the fiery sun or "light in the black", they were catchy enough to be noticed. Through the zoom function of the helmet, Scarhead quickly noticed a few Turians jerking their heads and looking around. However, they were too late. At six hundred meters and with a cruising speed of approximately 200m/s, it only took three seconds for the missiles to reach their target.

Three warheads in HEAT – High-Explosive Anti-tank – configuration detonated on impact against the target. The first two missiles arrived in the same time, blinding everyone with the dazzling explosion when the struck on the kinetic barriers. In the heat and flash, no one was able to notice the third streak of light gunning toward the damaged tank. However, everyone saw it going down in a fiery ball of flame, burning a handful of nearby Turians.

It was a victory for the Terrans. The members of the First Squad of Gryffindor Platoon cheered and praised each other for their victory, a few short encrypted reports were sent to the Command, telling them about the result of the attack. Still hiding in the shadow, they inserted new missile for the second salvo. This time, their targets were not the tanks, but rather the soldiers themselves. Sure, killing the tanks would sound better, but depriving the aliens from their number and straining their logistic would also be a nice idea.

Besides, multiple small cuts were always more dangerous than a major stab in the heart, especially for a war of attrition like this. The American learnt in the hard way during Vietnam War. Sure, their casualty was much lower than their enemies, but they still had no choice but to leave in the end, and when fighting against them was not a fully professional army with little to none of the luxury… well, they still lost the war by a series of small cuts mixed with a heavy punch or two.

The new salvo honed in, hitting in the middle of three different groups. By the look of it, it seemed the local logistic and command personnel just took a serious hit. There were no "really flashy" amour suits standing there, which meant that there were no high-ranking Turian officers. However, the Squad felt content for taking down a handful of company-graded or even squad-graded commanders. It would be enough to disrupt the operational power of the Turian in the Commerce district within a few days.

Another salvo was launched, this time, every single soldier of the Gryffindor let loose their personal guns. For a unit carrying the name of the lion, each soldier was heavily equipped with the required barking power. Not only they carried more anti-tank weapon than a standard infantry squad, they also had the heavier rifle variant as well as higher amount of Light Machine Gun, or LMG. The result of that set up was… spectacular to say the least. The whole Commerce Square was engulfed in flame, another tank was hit and struck down, the crew of the third tank was riddled with holes and shrapnel while the forth was pinned down alongside their comrades.

The recoil of the gun was quite heavy, but not uncontrollable. The men had been well-trained in the usage of such heavy weaponry. The bipods were deployed, using various structures like the window frames or half-demolished balconies as support. On stable ground, their aim was able to hone down on the targets of selection, cutting them down or at least, pinning them behind some cover.

On the site of Scarhead, there were three LMGs being used. With the theory rate of fire at 800 rounds per minute and the cartridge of 7.62x51mm, the Pashanka LMG was capable of shredding respectable amount of armours and covers, especially in urban and forest environments, in short period of time. With two of them in a fireteam and three fireteams in total, that were three LMGs and a combined sustained rate of 4800 rounds per minute. The Turians suffered the attack with the full blunt of the attack.

What even more dangerous was that the lions were also highly competent gunner. While the recommended ratio was one tracer rounds for every five, they put it at one every twenty and still able to maintain the required accuracy at the target. It made their attack virtually invisible, and the only proofs of such an attack were the booming sound in rapid succession as well as Turians being hurt and maimed.

The covers of the Turians, most of which were just demolished pre-fabricated buildings, were torn apart in a blink of an eye. The ones taking cover behind were instantly peppered by the barrage of lead. While each round carried much less kinetic energy than the anti-material 14.5x114mm cartridges used at the spaceport earlier this morning, they had a much higher rate of fire. The quantity was able to compensate for the quality – and in the end, the "kinetic barriers" of those Turians were still sapped down, leaving their wearers vulnerable to the next attacks.

The surprise attack was achieving its result, but it would only be a matter of time before the aliens were able to recover and counter attack, or worse, calling in aerial and orbital support. If they were as good as the Terrans, their commander would be putting his beak over the phone now – speaking of which, did the Turians have beaks or normal mouths like humans? Still, it was not as critical as finding the said officer and taking him down before hell was raining down around them.

While the whole team was still scanning their eyes over visible enemies, their radio cracked with the aristocratic voice of the "slimy arsehole snakes", Draco Malfoy, also known as "Ferret" for unknown reasons to everyone but himself and "Scarhead".

"This is Fang-Actual. Confirmed kill on three hostile officers on radio. No visible officers left in the arena. Over."

The Platoon leader of Slytherin Platoon gave a new report, easing down the worry of the lion. However, for some members of the Gryffindor Platoon, it was not hard to notice the smug and pride in the tone of Lieutenant Malfoy. It was as if he was saying that he had dealt more critical, tactical and strategic damage. While he was correct on a technical level, he also failed to score less damage than the lions, considering that his unit was only able to kill individual Turians personnel while the Gryffindor had already killed two tanks and damaged two mores.

But then, the dick-measuring contest would be done later, the men still had their missions to complete. Besides, their second-in-commands (who were accidentally also their high school sweethearts) would cut their balls off (figuratively and literally) if they let the personal rivalry getting into the way of the missions. However, it was not that hard for the Lion Lead and Snake Lead. They knew precisely what was at stake, and they were more than comfortable to set aside their personal rivalry until after the battle.

Over the radio net, both human officers could hear the faint sound of the other's gun fire, one was continuous with short, precise bursts, the other with silent yet powerful punch of death. Such sound added an edge to their psyche and their tone, showing how urgent and critical situation here.

"This is Claw-Actual. Mission accomplished. Pull back, by the number. Fang-Actual, cover us. Over."

"This is Fang-Actual. Who would cover our retreat then? Over."

"This is Claw-Actual. Lady Katyusha will do that for you. Access code: Three-One-Zero-One. Tag the target and get the hell out of there. Over."

"Fang-Actual, thanks for the assist. Now bug the hell out. Over."

Harry closed the link towards Draco and quickly gestured towards his comrades with his hand signal. The Turians had been aware of their presence and he did not really want to push his luck by increasing the local radio signal, painting a target over his arse. Sure, he just had a talk with his douchebag and arrogant friend, but better to be careful than to be sorry. The First Squad, seeing the order from their Lieutenant, quickly packed up their weapons and slowly inched back, fireteam by fireteam, while still providing suppression fire against the enemy. Down range, The Turians were still unable to find out from which angle they were attacked, let alone counter-attack effectively. In the mean time, they were not aware that they were also being sniped by Slytherin First Squad, pinning them down and sapping their number in the same time.

The battle at the intersection was short, barely ten minutes, but it was a fierce one and the Terrans had total control and the initiative. Every single bursts from the Turian either went wide or got shut down, or both. The glowing streaks of hypersonic metallic sand were cut short every single time. It was not until the Turian decided to launch a mass charge that they were able to negate the suppression fire. However, by then, Ferret and his comrades had already retreated and tagged the location.

Ten seconds later, the Turians heard the whooshing sound in the air. None of them knew what they meant, but they all knew that it was a health hazard. And, just like the Nazi in World War Two and the religious fanatics in World War Three, they suffered the barrage of MLRS – Multiple Rocket Launcher System. It was a very mundane, simple and bare weapon, but it did its job well enough. In fact, so well that all MLRSs were dubbed by the name of their fore-mother: Katyusha.

The sky was quickly filled with a series of flaming darts. Each of them struck a nerve of fear in the mind of the reptile-avian mixed alien, and when there were more darts than they could count, they paniced. And like the Russian of old age had said "Those foes who heard Katyusha are now deaf; those of them who saw Katyusha are now blind; those who tussled with Katyusha are naught but ash", the Turians were engulfed in a series on fire. None escaped the barrage, none survived the bombardment.

However, the squads of Slytherin and Gryffindor Platoons were not aware of that fact. They were using the stealth of darkness and the confusion coming from the brief exchange to slip away. Using the sewer system, they were able to travel through the city without having going above ground. The smell down there was terrible, and there were a lot of things better left unsaid. However, it was not a major concern for them, their helmets blocked the smell and shined the way, while the armors made sure that their skins would not come in contact with… whatever floating in the sewer.

No one knew precisely why the sewer system was connected with the tunnel system, but they could probably guess. It was a good and effective measure to hide the defense lines in plain sight. After all, which sapient race was insane enough to have a pile of feces lying in front of their secret hideouts? Apparently, the answer was "mankind". At least, they were not insane enough to plant booby traps under the drainage to even slow down and hurt the enemy even more…

Or did they?

Anyhow, both squads were able to sneak away undetected. They were already moving toward their new strongholds, though the word may be a bit misleading. Describing them as chokepoints might be a better way. Their job was not to cling onto those positions with their lives, but it was to drag out and bleed the Turians. The countryside was just too wide, it would be a good place to hide, but a terrible place to launch an attack from. Such a strike would be seen miles away and with orbital supremacy in aliens' hands, it was better not to tempt fate. It would be much more strategic and tactical to launch counter-attack from inside the city itself. The closure would prevent the aliens from using any orbital strike lest they would hit their own troops.

The fighting would be brutal, being urban warfare and all. But by the end of the day, they would still have the chance to live and keep fighting.

Both squads returned to their original platoons before both units slipped out of the underground system, taking control of various buildings and chokepoints in the city. Fighting alongside them inside the city was the fully two thirds of 666th Corp, each of them had their own point to hold, their own ambush to lay and their own target to slain. The information gained by 75th Ranger Battalion and 54th Special Purpose Brigade was tremendously helpful in this regard. It was just in time for the defenders to shore up their attacks and distribute their firepower for maximum effect. Sure, the Turians had shields, but those shields were not invincible, and they would still bleed, die or explode just like the humans would. The knowledge, just by its existence, had been a major moral boost for the defenders.

It did not take long before some skirmishes took place around the cities. A few fireteams just accidentally met some Turians on the deployment route or at their combat sites. Gunfires were exchanged, fists were launched, claws was lashes out… There were feet clanking on the streets, there were tanks rumbling on the road and there were even a brief exchange of heavy ordnance between the Katyusha batteries (made of just rockets and some bamboo frames – literally) and the Turian gunships (with all those techno-magik on their bodies). However, for the first night on the ground of the First Contact War, it was surprisingly quiet. It was almost as if both sides were actively avoiding each other so that they could have their own time to sleep.

The mystery of the first quiet night remained unsolved for years to come.

* * *

 **Location:**  
Children Square  
Commerce district  
Capital city Zhen Zhu (contested – destroyed)  
Planet Shanxi  
Zhusanjiao system (contested)

 **Time:  
** 2501 – 8th Month – 10th Day (Galactic standard)  
Late night (local time)

The battlefield may be (deceptively) calm, but the command post of the Turian invasion force (or rather, "police force") was anything but. On the holoscreen, General Brutus Oriendas was fuming at the reports he had been given. Taking control of the capital city was... costly, far more than every officer had thought. The full strength of the Third Cohort, with nearly 500 men, had been deployed to seize this "important-looking" position, namely the biggest square and the surrounding office blocks. Seeing the target being ruined, reduced to pile of rubble and no signs of life, the entire command hierarchy had thought that would be an easy fight.

How wrong they were... The soldiers had to trade blood for every inch of ground they took from these aliens. Soldiers died for nothing or for a gain too small... Now, littered around the square was roughly one fourth of their Legion's total fighting strength. Their bodies and remains were being taken care of by their living comrades, some of whom were still in shell-shocked. Some of the dead were killed during that despicable ambush, more were killed during the fight to seize the surrounding area, and even more was lost because of that fire storm.

Under the dark sky, the fire burnt brightly. Their red and orange colours looked like they were promising something sinister and terrible to the invading (or _policing_ ) Turians.

Meanwhile, down on the ground, glancing at the report, the most senior Centurion grimaced, unable to hide his displeasure. Over 300 Turian soldiers were dead in return for less than 50 human bodies that were found. A six-to-one loss was not something you can scoff at, even when you had men and body bags to spare. And that was even before taking in the recent probing attack against Sixth Armour Pack, which destroyed three-quarters of their number.

However, General Oriendas was having none of it, rather, he was in denial. For the last fifteen minutes, he had constantly reminded every Centurion present that they were fighting against primitives, and that such a loss ratio was unacceptable. The only acceptable outcome was victory, a clean and flawless victory.

Brutus talked in a tirade, not noticing the stress slowly forming on his officers' faces. They were tired, bruised and tattered, most of which was due to the welcoming gifts of the defenders. One of them had even been "promoted" on the field after his commander had been killed. He was young, inexperienced and would probably the first to die the next morning. The most senior Centurion, also the commander of the Third and Forth Cohort in place of his deceased comrade, had to suppress the urge to curse, even if the only reason was because the young (and newly promoted) Centurion looked just like his only son, whom he taught the general dislike toward profanity.

Yes, he had no problem with swearing in the face of his superiors, especially General Oriendas, someone who rose through the ranks not by merit, but by... connections. The sentiment was shared by many other officers in the Legion. However, said idiot was too well-entrenched in the general's chair, probably waiting for his "term of service" to end so that he could join the political world. Needless to say, his military knowledge was... barely accepted for a Centurion, let alone being a General. That was the reason why the senior Centurion decided to tune out that annoying wining voice and contemplated future actions.

These... humans, while being stubborn and illusive, were highly trained, if not military savvy. In a single day, they inflicted more damage to a Legion than what the filthy Bat... pirates could do in a full month. They burnt two full Cohorts in a furry of flames when realising that keeping the spaceport was impossible. Kinetic barriers for infantry were destroyed shortly before men were... obliterated. That thought scared him greatly. The only weapon capable of doing something equivalent damage, as far as he knew, was the (in)famous Graal Spike Thrower. However, it was Krogan-exclusive (and he had not seen any of them here) and a short-range weapon, yet no sight of shooter had confirmed, simply because they were always _out of sight._

The last line could lead to further complications, either these _suit rats_ and their _pets_ had cloaking technology (which was very unlikely), or they possessed a long-ranged sniper rifle capable of draining the kinetic barrier in a single shot. Neither of them was good news.

The bad news did not just stop there. Two key positions, both of them were selected as landing and staging areas, had been ambushed. Invasion force suffered heavy losses even before touching the ground. These _primitives_ , somehow, were able to make mines capable of _jumping_ and damaging the dropships at the same time. Moreover, some of them were even able to pierce the floor, killing the troops inside, further increasing the number of the dead. Those that survived were not exactly lucky or better off either. They were pinned down by accurate enemy fire from the surrounding buildings, some of which had already been demolished in the bombing runs. The way these humans were able to defend from a ruin was impressive to say the least, but still a major problem.

The first report was not exactly encouraging. His men were only able to confirm that there were minimum number of men in the buildings and those heavy weapons were just automated turrets. Despite being uncontrolled, those turrets had already killed nearly 100 men and at take out at least 10 tank-carriers (with various degree of damage) before being silenced. What shocked him the most were the Turians losses when trying to remove the threat. One certain heavy weapon nest was able to repel three flanking maneuvers, claiming at least twenty men while the defenders only left behind five dead of their own. This turret was only silenced after a tank platoon landed.

Yet, it did not go down quietly. It continued inflicting damage on critical equipment of the tanks, and while those tanks were still combat capable, their combat effectiveness was greatly reduced to none thanks to the loss of the range-finder, laser guidance system, and even the mass effect field on some. They were only fortunate that there were plenty of spares.

And that was even before considering the latest attack, barely an hour ago. A full armoured pack was annihilated in a handful of minutes. Everything was… too perfect, looking from the angle of the Terrans. They had the initiative to land first, they had the stealth to approach and lock on the targets before striking down, and they were merciless enough to crew-kill a few vehicles. The worst part, however, was the damaged against the tanks. Unlike the advance earlier this morning, those tanks were completely destroyed. The turrets were blown off, the Element Zero core was fried, and the less talked about the interior, the better. In fact, the old Centurion believed that not even a Krogan in bloodrage or a Turian Cabal operative could do that much damage… Yet, these… _humans_ were able to. That alone demanded grudging respect and guard from him.

He grunted, noticing the general had already cut the connection and his junior Centurions were all looking around with strange and questioning eyes. Staring at the dimming holo-screen, he snarled, barely hiding his scorn and disdain for the incompetent general.

"Spirits, what could possible happen now?! Those spirit-dammed pests killed us in our first wave. They burn our men... and we were blamed for that!? Get down here you idiot! It was _you_ who guaranteed that there should be no resistance in the first place you _pyjak_!"

Seriously, where the hell was Desolas the Miracle when the guy was needed? Up there chilling with a babe in his claw and a snack in the other – though considering the rumors about him, that was probably what was happening in the orbit.

The younger officers in the (temporary) command office just glanced at each other. They knew that fact too... Ash and soot covered their armours and their faces were unable to hide their tiredness. While the experienced officers were still able to maintain their rigid stance during the tirade of the foolish general, the young replacement officers were not. He just simply collapsed on the ground and breathed heavily under the pitying gaze of his more senior officers.

"Spirits... I lost my commander, my _Contuberium_ as well as a fifth of my Cohort... Wha... What should I do...? And... that... that smell... why... why is it still there...?"

The young Turian just sat there, swallowing in the disgusting air filled with the smell of burnt fresh meat. He had been broken by these... savage primitives. These dammed humans knew how to fight a foe with superior capabilities. Hit them where they did not expect, and use the terrain to their advantage. They knew war, almost as well as the Turians did, but they did not know the lengths the Hierarchy would go. After completing this mission, he would probably request a "punishment order" to remind these beasts that such actions against Citadel Council, or the Turian Hierarchy, in general, were simply unacceptable. Ten humans killed for every Turian seemed like a good trade off, and if things got worse, they would increase the number of hostages until they learned it or they were no more. However, it was not a pressing matter now. As the Cohort commander, he had more problems to solve than inventing adequate form of discipline for these _humans_.

Still, the old Centurion knew better than to dwell into his rage. It would focus his mind and give him the necessary boost, but it would also cloud his own judgment in the same time. Respect towards the humans on one side, he still felt the code to avenge his fallen comrades… He decided to let the matter aside, he would solve it once it came knocking on his door.

His omni-tool suddenly flared up, signaling a request for a vid call. Upon answering it, he saw it was a childhood friend of his, but instead of joining the Army, he became a Navy officer, currently serving as an Executive Officer on a cruiser. Despite some unpleasant words by others, who had not joined the same force, they were still good friends (minus the time they were dead drunk and got locked in the talk of my-d***-is-bigger-than-yours). The Centurion became worried. His friend was a rigid man, ready to follow order to the letter. Unless something was seriously wrong, he would not contact him without permission.

Such a thing had happened only three times in the past, and one of them was when his friend had thought, mistakenly, to be cheating on his "female friend".

Dismissing his men and returning them to their duties, the old Centurion sat down on the most intact chair in the room and accepted the message. The tired and strained voice of his friend quickly filled the room from the holoscreen.

"My old friend, how have you been? I heard that the person of… questionable intelligence... just chewed you out. Yes?"

"Yeah... He just let out some incoherent and intelligible ramblings, while not realizing we all heard nothing."

A soft chuckle was heard, eliciting a small smile over his face. It was true that while his friend was quite an aristocrat, he had more direct manner of speaking. How they were able to maintain their friendship was a mystery to everyone, including themselves.

"Right. That idiot... He may have already bitten off more than he could swallow..."

Something came from his friend's voice that alerted him. It was something... damm, he wished we spent more time paying attention in Literature class back in school. He could not find a single word to describe it... It was something dark, terrible and it was just over the corner. His intuition told him that if he did not listen closely, he would regret soon. Moreover, he had a hunch that it was something against standing protocol, so he listened to what his friend had to say.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember the human's space force? A space station and nearly fifty ship, all of which were cruiser and bigger?"

"I heard about it. They were able to caused serious damages to us, but they were still pushed back and kicked out of the system. Why do you ask?"

"... After the orbit was secured, we were ordered to send out scouts. Standard procedure, mostly for reporting duty. My ship sent out twenty scouting drones while you were being deployed... I just received the report less than thirty minutes ago..."

Something terrible was coming. His friend did not say anything out loud, but his voice seemed to pass it without any spoken words. The elder Centurion could feel a chill going down the back of his neck. It was almost as if Death was watching over with a wicked smile. With a very, very calm voice, he asked his friend

"And?"

"... Buddy... We found no space dock or any space structures, other than the ones that were destroyed."

"What? None? They had nothing else here?"

"None, and that was a bad news, if not very, very bad..."

"How so?"

"Think about it, that idiotic general thinks that this is the homeworld of some species uplifted by the Quarians. However, we have found no space docks, the planet was sparely inhabited and there was no meaningful trace of Element Zero found in the debris here. All this evidence... It has me thinking that we are attacking some spacefaring race that just got in contact with the Quarians... and they may not use any Element Zero."

"What?!"

"You heard me, they don't use any Element Zero. They might be primitives at first glance... But what kind of primitive race able to stand up against us, the Turians, despite all the odds? Spirits, we're the ones who usually stand up and face overwhelming odds... Buddy, I know this sounds crazy, but we are probably the invaders here. Not onto their homeworld, but one of their colonies. You have seen, and heard, how they fight to protect this planet. What will they do if the news reaches their home?"

"Does the Admiral know?"

"You mean the Miracle one? He does, and he is plotting plans to find their homeworld and bring the fight to their doorstep. He does not look comfortable or relaxed, though."

A sudden chill went down the spine of both officers. If the Miracle was feeling unease after a single battle, he must have felt something wrong. And if he felt something was wrong, something would be definitely wrong or out of place. The space combat was probably the first reason. Despite being outnumbered by a factor of ten, the humans were able to inflict disproportional damage on the Turian armada and still able to maintain their number. Sure, those ships were scratched heavily, but the overall number did not decrease by many. It was as if they were still fighting on equal terms despite being outnumbered heavily. Spirits, the humans even destroy their own space station to keep it falling into Turian hands, effectively dragging even more Turian soldiers with them. Yet, all of that was slightly better than what happened on the ground. At least it was over quickly.

The men could not move under heavy fire, and death came sudden and in stealth. Those deaths were brutal and gruesome, more often than not, and the unlucky soldier would die missing a limb or part of his torso. Moreover, the casualty rate of the Army was not something which could be easily ignored. While the loss of 300 men was enough to render a Cohort ineffective, the loss of commanding officers were more than enough to take two Cohorts out of action. At the moment, both Cohorts were practically depleted in terms of both man and equipment, despite the first day having yet to end. All units committed to the ground campaign, one mechanised and four infantry cohorts, had either been wiped out or rendered ineffective.

It was only a colony... The senior Centurion was suddenly glad that he had decided to stay away from politics. When the dust settled, that idiot of a general would find himself in serious trouble and probably be wishing he had been eaten by a varren on Tuchanka in a public show for the Krogan... Taking a sigh he said

"If so, all we can do is try to take the planet and secure it as quickly as possible, but I am not optimistic."

"They are that good?"

"If not better. As much as I hate them, I must credit them for fighting smart and effective. I've already lost two Cohorts in a day, my friend. I'll probably lose more before this day is over."

"Yeah... What a pity..."

"A pity... aye..."

The two old officers just stared at each other on the screen, losing themselves in thought. Both were dealing with an internally conflicted. On one side, was their sacred duty to serve and obey their superior's commands, such was the code each Turian lived and died for. However, on the other side, was their disgust on their commander, a stupid and inept general who had no talent on military matters and did nothing but curry favours with some pyjak politicians. If they followed their duties, more men would be killed for nothing but potentially enraging a new alien race who could be as terrible as the Rachni or the Krogan. On the other hand, disobedience was something they could not stomach.

There was the sound of someone speaking from the call, the Navy officer told someone off screen something about scout reports. Then, he returned the conversation.

"I have to get back on duty now, my friend. I just call to tell you that... We are stuck in something terrible because of that idiot... I'm sending you the report along with my notes here... I believe there is something that may have I've missed... Use it well. There are rumours abut extra Legions coming, but... we can't take any more losses... Be careful my friend. We die for the cause."

The motto just echoed in the half-ruined room. Glancing around, the old Centurion just grumbled,

"Yeah... Die for the cause."

Outside of the windows were thin blue streaks of light. It was reinforcements. These two Cohorts here were too banged up to put up a proper fight tomorrow, and it looked like that idiot general was going all-out... stupid... He would probably sacrifice the entire Legion for nothing. Pyjaks... The only thing he could pray now was for decent Centurions to be leading strong and well-armed Cohorts. They would need that tomorrow morning.

A chirp was heard on his omni-tool. It was the report of the scouting operation. He just scanned through it, ignoring most of the confusing, technical terminology. He just wanted to see the notes his friend had written, as well as his men who had been in charge charge of this task. However, the document was still being loaded, and so he had to wait.

Glancing upwards, the old commander watched the blinking stars in the dark sky night. Normally, it would be soothing, but today, he felt something else... It was like something terrible was brewing across the horizon. If he was right, the humans were massing their troops, preparing for a counter-strike. Apparently, for these humans, losing their capital did not equal failure. Moreover, despite not being in the area, they had already been able to deal serious casualties to three cohorts. What if they focused their strength on those three exhausted cohorts and their reinforcements?

A chill ran down his spine. No, he would need to talk with the Centurions. If he could not lead them away from the deadly battles, he would try to reduce the losses of the Legion. Good soldiers were hard to find and to train, good Turians were even harder, and the two replacement Cohorts, the Seventh and Eighth, were filled with eager young men.

His comm officer ran into the room, relaying the request to land from the incoming reinforcements. The old man put one hand on his elderly face... The night was still long, and he had much to do.


	16. Chapter 15

**Hi guys, long time no see.**

 **Sorry for the full month being hiatus. I stumbled over another writing block - I had the general idea but failed to put them in precise words. Not to mention that I had an exam (or two?) at school... Yeah, Undergraduate Mechanical engineering course is quite a bitch... Do not enrol unless you are tough (or insane) enough - take that as personal experience.**

 **At least, I had a spark last weekend, giving me the motivation I needed to finish off this chapter. So, here you go. A bit of fighting and clash. It is not on the messed up level of Call of Duty or Battlefield though - more like ARMA. Sure, I _love_ the two franchises, but the way they paint warfare is... not precisely correct. And when I try to make things as realistic as possible, well, I cannot exactly use the games as a reference source.**

 **I would start bringing in a lot of chaos from the next chapter though. Or at least, that is my plan. There will be about three or four more chapters focusing on the warfare on Shanxi.**

 **Then, things go up by _another_ level. Note, there is a few nukes and anti-orbital weapons in Shanxi at the moment, which means "another level" is forecasting some pretty fucked up shit.**

* * *

 **Reviews' response:**

 **Mly92Reader:** Well, that is my plan originally. I drag in the cast from Harry Potter only as a feature of humour (and reference).

 **Olav152:** Thank you for your review. You have said pretty much what my general idea is. Regarding your questions, the answers are as follow: The Migrant Fleet (at the very moment) for the most part is still following usual business, wandering around, and the ships visiting Shanxi have been evacuated deeper inside the Federation. The Council does not even know anything about this deployment, though the STG would know about it soon. Back home, the situation is... well, as good as it can get - surprisingly, nothing has come crashing down (yet).

 **heartfanglives:** Thank you for your review. Though I'm afraid that the battle could not be done soon enough, as my fic (ie this story) focuses strongly on the First Contact War. Though I can promise that I will try to describe all angles concerned within the period.

 **OMAC001:** Thank you for your review. The (blatant) appearance of Harry Potter is less trolling and more a failed attempt of an Easter Egg. Thanks for the praise on my explanation, glad that it is "mundane" enough to explain a military concept.

 **general-joseph-dickson:** Thank you for your review. And if you think the human is being stubborn at the moment, _you haven't seen anything yet._

 **Pteaset:** Thank you for your review.

 **CReaprer210:** Thank you for your review. And this is a new update for you. Hope you would enjoy it.

 **Chronus1326:** Thank you for your review.

* * *

"I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy."

\- John Adams (1735 - 1826), Founding Father of [former] United States of America

* * *

 **ISIO** : Institute of Special and Intelligence Operations (catchphrase: "I see you")

 **IFV** : Infantry fighting vehicle

 **DMR** : Designated Marksmen Rifle

* * *

 **"The Breach of Shanxi" – Day 2**

 **Location:**  
Unknown half-demolished apartment block  
Ward 1, Residence District  
Capital city Zhen Zhu (contested- destroyed)  
Planet Shanxi  
Zhusanjiao system (contested)

 **Time:**  
03:56 (Terran Standard time) – 05:56 (Local time)  
23 February 2201

The Slytherin Platoon was scattering around a five-storey apartment block, the one with a restaurant on the ground floor and half of its structure missing. From the outside, the building looked like a deserted ruin, however, only the "ruin" part was half-corrected. It was far from being a "ruin" when its main primary structure was still intact, and with a dozen men crawling inside, it was hardly deserted at all. Lieutenant Malfoy spent the first thirty seconds wondering why and how such a building could stand, then decided against it. He had the experience dealing with the engineers before, and they were too prone for a bout of insanity.

Besides, it was not like knowing the answer would help him here. He just knew that the room was strong and hardened enough to stand against everything, short of a direct shot from a tank, a missile, or a full aerial and orbital attack. However, attacking the said room was actually harder than one may think, it was concealed very well while still providing a good view over the streets on two sides. The vantage position turned the room into a temporary command post for Slytherin Platoon…

And as luck would have it, it was also double used as a relay point for communication of Gryffindor Platoon. Those brash lions were pushing deep into enemy-held territory, and if the reports of his watch were correct, the only thing separated them from the Turian was a single layer of wall. At that position, using normal equipment and protocol to contact with Command was… risky at best and suicidal at worst. Therefore, they needed a middle point to re-direct their communication array, just in case it was intercepted in the first place.

The whole field was erringly silent, completely unlike a major war raging on. However, for the Lieutenant, he knew it was only a matter of time before the whole city was lit up again. At least there would be no weapon of mass destruction being deployed this time… Probably.

Still, the atmosphere here was what he was afraid the most: the silence before the storm. Everyone knew the rage was incoming, but none knew precisely where and when it would land, which put the soldiers in a mood of frustration. The snakes were trying their best to distract themselves from that negative emotion, with various degree of success.

Corporal Flint, the biggest man in the platoon, was humming a pop song, one with a so predictive and addictive tune that it was considered as "trash" the moment it came out. In the window above him, Private Greengrass, the only female of the unit, was twirling her lipstick between her fingers. The obvious questions of where that stick came from and why she carried it along to the battle were not asked by none.

And the leader, Lieutenant Malfoy himself, was smoking. Sure, smoking killed, but it was no immediately, and it helped the white-hair man to ease down his anxiety and stress. It was much more appreciated at the moment, compare to a future healthy lung.

Some of his direct subordinates, however, had other definitions on relaxing right before a major problem.

"El-Tee, there is one thing I had yet to understand."

It was Private Goyle, arguable not the smartest man in the platoon, but he was one of the best guardian in protecting the snipers' backs. In addition, he was the first one who opened up to Malfoy when he first received Slytherin Platoon. Therefore, he was kept in the command squad of the unit, despite the severe lack of skill in marksmanship.

With one eye peeking through the hole, Draco did not even turn back, but he still gave his subordinate a response:

"Shoot."

"Why were you named Draco Malfoy anyway? I mean… no one would name their son like that, no one sane, that is."

That attracted the attention of everyone. To be fair, it was a question that _everyone_ worth their salt would love to ask. After all, no one, even Private Greengrass with her father as an ISIO operative, could find out the answer. Every single member of the command squad was hinging on every single word that would be coming out of his mouth.

However, the man in the question had other ideas, mainly because he knew the truth, and he was not drunk enough to speak it. Considering that the most "drunk" he had been was due to both Greengrass sisters tried to drag him into the bedroom and mistakenly got the Scarhead instead (long story)… Yeah, his men would have to try better to fish it out of him:

"Goyle, you had yet to top in the platoon's bucket. Ten credit, just ten. And you had been delaying it for a year now."

"But sir, I'm broke."

"Broke and you still have cred to buy that nurse some flowers?"

"I run out of money for betting business, sir."

"Goyle?"

"Sir?"

"Fuck you."

A few chuckles were heard, but that was the end of the story. The command squad knew better than to push their commander into revealing his secret. Besides, keeping the ordeal a mystery made the whole situation a bit funnier, and in the threatening situation like this, a bit of humour never hurted.

The light-heart moment ended quickly enough. The scouts and overwatchs instantly sent in a new report, the Turian was on the move. Heading to their position was quite a large formation, 100-plus, with three vehicles, suspecting of one tank and two IFVs. Draco grimaced while listening to the news. His Platoon had little problem dealing with the infantry, but the armoured made the whole situation much harder. Being geared toward stealth and infiltration, Slytherin Platoon only carried a miniscule amount of anti-tank weaponry, and those were not enough to dislodge this reconnaissance in force of the Turian.

However, he still had a few ways to negate the firepower advantage of the aliens. After all, they were stupid enough to bring tanks to an urban fight. Sure, they had just one tank and their IFV-lookalike would be able to discourage any attack from an elevated angle, but it did not meant that he could not try to do anything.

"Fang-1, this is Fang-Actual, ready to detonate the road, on my mark."

The idea was pretty simple: to burrow a bomb under the road so when a tank was passing over, it could be detonated. The width of the road only allowed a single Turian vehicle to pass through – albeit with moderate infantry flanking. With a dead tank blocking the head of the advance, the force behind it would be like fishes in a barrel, easy target pickings for his men.

Still, he was not arrogant enough not asking for anymore help. _Friendly rival_ between him and Scarhead aside, the brash man was highly talent in anti-vehicle warfare, in fact, half of the plan devised by Draco was thanks to input from that man. As a measure of anti-vehicle warfare, he received two fireteams from the Lions, securing two ends of the zone. It was those soldiers who actually planned the explosives underground and inside the rubbles, not the Snakes. Sure, they knew how to plant demolition charges, but when it came to anti-tank duties, their proficiency fell behind their counterparts.

And now, when two highly efficient models of explosive were introduced together? The Turians were in for a nasty surprise. The reports were now coming in burst, instead of voices, it was text, brief texts lining together to form a code, known only by the Snakes. Sure, any decent intelligence units could crack the code in less than an hour, but to see the gibberish text and to understand its meaning in less than a second, only a soldier of Slytherin Platoon could do that.

The pair of IFVs had already splitted up, each was supported by a light platoon of infantry, about twenty each. Both columns advanced into two parallel streets while the tanks stayed behind with a moderate escort detachment. It was a smart thing for them to do so.

There were only two roads leading from Turian staging ground toward this area, or at least, two roads that wide enough for an armoured vehicle to travel through freely. It was a bit… strange to think about it, as if the planners originally thought of the situation where the city would be invaded. The number of roads where armoured could pass through freely was abnormally small, and the ones allowed that to happen had integrated hard points and defensive positions. Surely, humanity was not _that_ paranoid… right?

Then, such was way above Draco's pay grade, his major concern at the moment was to sap down the strength of the Turian patrol. Trying to kill them all would be suicidal, they outnumbered his unit by a factor of three, and outgunned him by a factor of four – minimum. Having the help from anti-tank specialists or not, the Turian shields would be able to save their armoured units from crippling shots, buying them a few seconds to retaliate. The same thing could be said about their infantry, each shield was capable of withstanding a full 14.5mm cartridge.

With that in mind, he should just try to sap down the strength of the advance. The explosives put on the road would be able to mission-kill the two IFVs and some of its escort infantry. May be they would be back to full strength by the end of the day, but that would be approximately 10 hours in the future, and in an urban setting like this, ten hours meant _a long time_. Besides, if he repeat the same style of attack tomorrow, and the day after that, and day after that too, it would be more efficient in the wrong run. A series of small explosions was always better than a single major one.

New reports were streaming in, the two columns were now getting through the streets methodically. While their movements were fairly slow, their gun turrets kept swinging from one side to another, ready to respond to any attack from the buildings on two sides of the street. The infantry kept raising the guns up, aiming at half-closed, half-opened windows and doors. While the reports were short and unimaginative, Draco was still able to feel the urgency lingering under the texts. His men felt threatened by these aliens, either because these Turians werea actually "aliens", or because they were showing high level of cohesion and professionalism. It did not matter much, they were invading human's ground, and his job was to stop them – no matter the cost.

A new message was sent, the two IFVs had reached the mark on the road, and Draco sent the order. On two roads, two independent charges went up in two simultaneous roars, throwing the two armoured vehicles slight _off_ the ground while pushing their screening infantry away. With each charge was rated at 20kg TNT equivalent, it was no surprise to see both of them being halted instantly. Their shields, no doubt, had taken a great hit. The two vehicles then crouched down with their groans drowned in the fiery screech of flame and the grumbling of debris in the air.

Dirt and rock were thrown up, blocking the vision of ground-side Turians. Their ears were also temporary deaf and their sense of balance was severely impaired. Before they had a chance to recover and retaliate, however, the humans had already opened fire. The anti-tank specialists of Gryffindor Platoon stood up from the top of a (former) four-storey building before let loose their rockets. On each road, a soldier opened fire with his disposable launcher, leading to two rockets screeching through the air and then slamming down on the immobilized Turian IFVs. The wooshing sound of the two rockets flared up in the air, piercing the dying rumble from the two hidden bombs. Both of those vehicles were turned into molten slags in a blink of an eye, after another pair of explosions.

The two soldiers did not even stay and watch their handy work. They simply used the _most_ basic type of anti-tank rocket (one called RPG-18, whatever it meant) with visual sight at the distance of roughly 100m before running away. "Shoot and scoot" was how they called it, which fit right into the plan of Draco, the one calling for avoidance of direct hard combat.

The tank in the back would be a problem though, but his unit would be long gone by the time it reached the combat site. It had been staying there for fifteen minutes so far, so it would take at least five minutes to arrive here, and even then, it would be late to protect the infantry. His unit would be long gone by then, but before that… He needed to leave souvenirs behind.

A new set of orders was given, this time, the rifles barked up. Invisible paths of bullets accompanied the loud crack of the chemical – kinetic cartridges in the Terran arsenal. Draco had already ordered his men to remove their suppressors, there was no need to be "invisible" in this case. The muzzle breaks on their guns would be sufficient in covering their positions, the lack of visible bullet paths would confuse the Turians, and the order was clear: they were not to linger around. They had to empty their magazine within a minute, then retreated.

It sounded like cowardice, but Draco preferred to sapping their strength slowly over a period of time before launching a critical strike. They were still in top conditions here, well-fed, well-rest and well-armed. Fighting head-on at the moment was suicidal. Sure, he had the skills to win this skirmish, but he preferred to win this _war_ and stay alive.

Even then, the sudden and brief attack was still able to score some damage. Thanks to the recon yesterday, the human now knew where to aim their guns, namely, at "flashy targets", who seemed to be specialists, NCOs, and more importantly, officers. His men did not bother to note down any new suits' variants or appearances, however, they just shot at any Turians not wearing grey armors. So far, more than ten targets had been reported with their shields depleted, and two of them were dead. In the same time, not even a single retaliate strike was given back.

The unit could press for more, but none of them was greedy. They withdrawn in neat order, with one section kept their sustain firing rate to cover for the other to retreat, then, each man in the last squad pull back while other squadmates kept firing. The whole attack took place within a minute, there was no casualty on the Terran's side, yet, they were able to inflict serious damage on the Turian, two IFVs mission-kill, suspected of kill-kill (or "they ain't fighting anymore"), fifteen-plus Turian infantry had their shields depleted, and at least two neutralized.

There was even a more impressive part, the tank was still staying at the back of the convoy. The attack was so fast, brief and sudden that it was not able to respond in time. And by the time it lurched forward, the whole Slytherin had been able to withdraw safely. The blue streaks of the ultra-hyper-sonic (was that even a grammatically correct word?) rounds just peppered harmlessly on the burnt buildings, dealing zero damage.

Draco was now on an escape route with his command squad. Using the "ventilation holes" on the wall, the one either deliberately made with liberal application of shotgun and sledgehammer, they were able to quickly move between different rooms and buildings. With the apartment block being built into a box, the internal movements of theirs could be safely concealed from the prying eyes of the Turians. In addition, the apartment also led down to the tunnel system, further covering their tracks. And last but not least, there was absolutely no air surveillance deployed by the Turians, not even a gunship or an UAV. They had to pay for that mistake dearly.

The ground trembled lightly, but it barely attracted any attention from the squad as they passed through the darkened hallway. The sound behind the prefabricated concrete wall was hardly important to them, especially when it was transmitted through a few walls already, or while they were going underground.

They moved to pre-set destinations, new sites of their ambushes and skirmishes. The group of Gryffindor soldiers would bid them farewell at the moment, returning back to their unit before finding any more armoured depots of the Turians before turning them into slags. Draco paused for a blink of an eye mid-stride before continuing. Surely, the Lions would be sensible and responsible enough to _not_ use napalm within the urban environment.

Yeah, not his trouble then. As long as the Turians were dead, he would be even fine with the fucking Scarhead burning them down in flame while just wearing a boxer… Actually, that would be a terrible sight for nightmare. May be having his rival trapping the dino-birds in a series of explosion would be enough.

The trip underground was safe, quiet, even if nothing happened. While it sounded like a terrible and ironic fate for a war, every professional soldiers (read: everyone in the area) knew that it was actually the truth – for most of the time. A battle consisted of 80% boredom, 15% of "hurry up and wait", and only 5% of extreme fright. In addition, it was only very rare that a soldier could actually get a good visual on his target. More often than not, he or she was just shooting in the general direction of his team. The previous combat was the exception, rather than the norm, with a clear and well-arranged ambush site. But even then, without the assistance of the scopes (and the flashy armours of the aliens), his men would still have trouble seeing the Turians down there.

And besides, the range was around 200m, which was roughly ten times more than what an average FPS gamer was used to. It was one of the reason why the military never, ever, recruited gamers into their force.

Following the tunnel and taking a few turns, the command squad did not take too much time to reach their new sites, _another_ apartment block. Though this one was more on the luxurious scale and it had a wider basement. Unlike the previous one, the apartment's core area had a conspicuously thick wall, it was actually a secret set of stairs, leading down to the tunnel and basement below. This feature of design was actually a part of compulsory part of off-Earth exploration, thanks human's paranoia for that.

Fucking Prothean and their mysterious data cache on Mars.

Sure, the industrialists and the bankers were complaining about the added costs (read: less money in the profit column), but in a strange twist of fate, the politicians were able to put down their feet and force those men to comply. After this war, no one would be able to shit-talk about this sense of paranoi anymore.

Draco glanced upwards, quickly noticing a few light rays were going in, lighting up part of the sealed component. Clearly, this building was busted, but its secret tunnel and hideout were still safe, probably. The light rays were coming in mostly from the third floor, so the second floor should be a nice place to stage up for the next attack.

However, that was when things started going wrong.

First, the door was stuck due to unknown reasons, and it took the combined strength of both Draco and Goyle to bust out the door. The first thing they heard was not the cracking sound of the door opening, but rather a yelp.

An inhuman yelp.

Draco quickly noticed he was not touching the ground, but rather something else. In front of him was not one, but three aliens. Three fucking Turians! Just like the briefing, their appearances were well-known to the young Lieutenant. Mandibles seemed to be made from bone-like materials, forming a crown over their heads. These ones must be males, because they were much longer than the overall shape of the heads. All of them were wearing grey armours, and only one of them had a silver bar running diagonal over the upper part of the suit.

They seemed to be surprised, none of them had even reached for their guns yet. Draco knew that he was spotting the same face expressions as them, the only reason they did not know that was because he was wearing an opaque helmet.

And because he was able to recover faster than them. He raised his bullpup rifle up and flipped off the safety switch purely by reflex, he stepped onward while peppering at the nearest Turian. He knew that the aliens had their own personal shielding, so his initial bullets would be ineffective. Yet, in the heat of the moment, he discarded that thinking and just focus on fighting. More explosions followed from behind him, alerting him that his squadmates had joined in the fight.

The information was pushed down in his brain, however, because instead of flashing brightly, the first Turian fell down with his body punctured multiple times, shooting out the blue alien blood. Strange, no shield… But Draco did not pay much attention to the question why, he just knew that the infantry-scale shields were temporarily off for these aliens, which made his job much easier.

All three Turian fell quickly enough and the knocked down Turian was shot in the back of the head by Greengrass, before they had any chance to fire back, though Draco was damned sure that their friends were now aware of his presence, which was sucked. Still, taking down four enemy combatants with zero casualty was quite a success already, especially after he had taken down two IFVs and injured a dozen or so of their soldiers.

Of course, lingering around and gloating would be hazardous to their health (and lives), which was pretty much enough to turn the "gain" into "loss". He should get the fuck out of there, as soon as possible.

"Bloody hell!"

Greengrass, the only female member of his squad (and his platoon) uttered a curse in the most British way possible, from the choices of the curse to the accent she used (whatever British meant). Draco would pick more… colorful languages to express his feeling, but then, she would scold him for using "foul language", and for a girl who was shorter than him by a full head, she really knew how to cow others.

"Ain't that some foul language Greengrass?"

"Not as foul as your wet dream mumbling Goyle."

The squad bantered in whisper while securing the room, shutting down all possible approaching avenues while putting overwatch on the windows. While no enemy had been spotted, it never hurt to be prepared.

Draco crouched down, hid behind stumbled chairs and tables in order to observe the guns of the Turians. They were interesting enough, quite user-friendly, despite being designed for "hands" with three claws rather than ones with five fingers. Thanks to the fact that the Turians had one claw on the opposite side with the other (just like humans' thumbs), he could hold the gun comfortably in his hand. The handle was also at a comfortable length, a bit longer than his DMR's, but it was still manageable.

However, the most interesting part was that there was no visible slot to insert the ammunition. At least, he knew the answer already. Instead of using catridges like humans, the Turians (and by extenstion, their friends and allies in the so-called Citadel Council) used grain-sized metal pellets as ammunition. The sand was extracted from a metal block, housed right above where Draco would put his other hand to balance the gun. A few simple clicks would be able to pry out the spent block housing and insert a new one, at least, that was the theory. He had yet to practice it and he did not enjoy blowing anything up by doing something wrong.

In addition, there was also another safety feature, an on-board computer, used to regulate the gun's operation, ranging from inserting new grains in the barrel to the cooling process. It was quite a pity that the computer was still "on", and Draco knew nothing about Turian language to turn it off… but then it was not exactly necessary. For the moment, he only needed the gun to be able to fire. But, shooting the gun within an enclosed room was a terrible idea… He should wait until the fight was at some open places then.

The second piece should be the shield generators… though where they were precisely on the dead Turian bodies would be another story. Finding them would only be a matter of time then, but, time was a luxury item that they did not have. His overwatch quickly noticed figures approaching from the outside, and there were voices downstairs. A second spent under consideration yielded the estimations of approximately two squads approaching, doubling their number.

While it had yet to reach the critical threshold of three to one level, it was simply stupid and suicidal to stay and fight. There was nothing to gain for fighting here. Sure, he could try to retrieve the Turian infantry-graded shield, but then, what good would come out of it? It would take too much time, critical time, and it was always better to steal some while under the cover of stealth, not when it had been blown away like this. Besides, he had been able to retrieve four rifle-like guns and two pistol-like sidearems. They would still be enough to show new insights on the Turian war machines. Hopefully, some guys in the staff would be able to guess something on the aliens by analyzing these guns.

But… before that…

"Goyle, Crabbe, plant explosives on the door and tunnel entrance. Bulstrode, Parkingson, cover them, kill any Turian going up. Greengrass, Zabini, Carrow, snipe the incoming birds from the outside. Stop them from getting close."

That was the plan. It was simple, easy, and it could be done by even a conscript hooked up on booze and sex.

The problem was that… this was a damned war. It went down wrong soon enough.

The Turians had been able to secure at least two machine guns emplacement outside, which quickly pinned down his snipers. The birds had already been able to zone down the human's position and kept peppering the room with their weapons. The machine guns pumped in a hailstorm of blue streaks of light from the outside, forcing the defenders' heads down. Meanwhile, their comrades downstairs were using the moment to storm upwards, at least, the squad was able to pin them down with grenades for the time being. However, their grenades had already ran out – they were forced to mass deploy them to compensate for the protection available to the aliens.

It was barely a minute since the Turian began the counter-attack, and the situation had been pretty hairy. The sound of explosion quickly filled up the room, fragments flew in all directions in the room, dropping harmlessly on the suits of the soldiers. At least the humans were equipped with a fully sealed helmet. They were quite cumbersome, but at least they protected the human against unknown biological threats from the aliens, and flying debris like this. Draco knew that there had been at least five clouds of wooden fragments being thrown in his face – and that were only the ones he awared off.

Without this helmet, he would have been blind already. Not to mention that the helmet also came with an integrated set of radio and simple HUD, allowing him to co-ordinate the defense of the squad with highest efficiency possible.

Or he could also use it to time the moment his men were done with setting charges, clearing all kind of traces of them being here. The moment the green light was lit, he yelled into the mic, ordering the whole squad to retreat back into the tunnel. Each and every soldier pulled back in neat order, only when under cover fire from the others. In quick order, they were able to get back to the hidden door with zero deaths.

However, they were injured. Greengrass had her bicep hit a few times, Zabini and Carrow were limping backward while both Goyle and Crabbe had cracks on their helmets. Other members were also showing various degrees on injuries, at least, as far as Draco could tell, none was hurt critically. Those wounds were not enough to put them out of the fight – just a patch up here and there and they would be back for the fight.

More importantly, he had been able to secured critical intelligence and technical data. Sure, the Federation was aware of the Mass Effect, and they had extra knowledge after First Contact with the Quarians. But real, hand-on items never hurt, especially when the Quarians refused to share any real working weapons to the Federation.

These four guns would be a tremendous boon for the force. While they were astronomically low in number, they would (probably) be enough to reveal some tactics used by the Turians, and through that, how to defeat these aliens.

The period from the moment to that time was another question, of course.

* * *

 **Location:**  
Command bunker – approximately 100m underground  
Wild primitive jungle  
North – East quarter-sphere  
Planet Shanxi  
Zhusanjiao system (contested)  
Hegemony of Oriental  
Terran Federation

 **Time:**  
12:00 (Terran Standard time) – 13:00 (Local time)  
23 February 2201

The captured guns had been delivered safely to the Command. The Slythering Platoon, H Company of 75th Batallion, was the one responsible for securing these weapons. The command staff was in hysteria when they received the toys. (Un)Surprisingly, half of the technical staff volunteered to test the gun – read: they brought them to the firing range to let loose. At least they were able to set up a proper testing apparatus before anything else… Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with those officers? They were all field officers, yet they were like kids in a candy store the moment they laid eyes on those guns.

To be fair, General Williams himself was almost lowering himself to that level, just almost. He was too old to act like a young kid, and his hip lacked too much lubrication to dash towards the firing range. Therefore, he was just sitting there, at the briefing table, with a full crate of coffee and screens blinking around his seat.

It looked like the lair of some evil genius, somehow.

And at the moment, he was sitting at one end of a long table, hands crossing into each other to cover the lower half of his face. His staff officers were no less threatening with their hard, emotionless faces and a deadly intent in the air. Add in the gloomy atmosphere and the low light condition, the image could spook anyone being unprepared for the image. For example, the young Lieutenant who was directly in charge of testing the gun. At least, he was able to keep his pants dry – for the moment.

Of course, General Williams had already instructed his men to not do so. Pranking others was fine and dandy, but pranking in the middle of a full blown war right on the site was definitely a good idea. Bat-shit insane or not, there must be a level of professionalism in the high echelon of leadership here.

Back to the young man, he was now delivering the technical report. While it was just basic Physics, only the Asian could understand it with a single hearing time. For others like him, he could still do so, but only after fifteen minutes of concentration and all technical jargons had been removed.

"… the weight of each metal grain was about 4mg, or four millionths of a kilogram. The Mass Effect core, powered by the Element Alpha, then decreases the mass of the said grain down even further, to microgram scales, which mean a few millionths of a single gram, a decrease factors of roughly a thousand times. The ultra-light metal grain…"

There were too many numbers after that, so General Williams decided to stop listening to it. He could understand the science behind them, but he failed to connect the said numbers into real life. In other words, he did not understand the applications of those numbers. Hopefully, the staff could translate it into more understandable knowledge, without the fuzzy and duzzy numbers… But seriously, how could those Asians understand them flawlessly?

A few (or a lot more than a few) moments later, the Lieutenant finished his report and looked at him expectantly. Sighing out, the General spoke up:

"So, Lt, what is your conclusion? What is the threat level of these guns?"

"Well, sir tactically speaking, It is not that different from ours, something better and something worse."

"And strategy speaking?"

"They trumped us sir. There is no need for them to be as concerned about the ammunition supply as we do."

"OK… begin from the beginning. On a human's body, what is the threat of these guns. And keep things simple please, in English."

It did not go well though. The young man quickly sipped into the technical speaks, quickly giving him a migraine. He could not understand the jargons being used there, which had gone straight from intermediate level to some very advanced stuff. The General did not even know how to spell half the words being used there, which led to him being lost within a few minutes.

Seeing no other ways, he had to signal the young man to stop before gesturing to Lieutenant Colonel Zhou Xiping, one of his staff officers. The man was also a citizen of the Hegemony of Oriental, which meant that he would be very dedicated to the fight here. More reasons for him to gist the technical data (or gibberish) into something understandable.

Luckily, the man knew the dilemma of the General, so he would try his best to translate the numbers into words, into something that everyone could understand. It was quite easy, yet insanely hard and critical in the same time. Not many people had the knowledge and the social skills to actually pull that off though.

The Oriental field officer watched the reports, focusing intently on the Conclusion segment while checking on his own personal datapad. After five minutes of mumbling, he drew his own conclusion.

Simply put, each shot consisted of a spherical grain with a diameter of one millimeter (1mm), taken from the iron-alloy metal block, which gave the bullet a mass of roughly four micrograms (4μg). The Mass Effect, with its bullshit space magic, then made the grain even lighter and propelled it to the staggering muzzle velocity of thirty thousand meter per second (30000m/s). In other word, they were very small bullets travelling very fast. This was in contrast to the Terran philosophy, emphasizing on moderately-sized bullets travelling at a hypersonic speed only (10g travelling at 880m/s). Thanks to kinetic energy being proportional to the square of velocity, the energy of a Mass Effect-based bullet was double than that of the Terran. In translation, it meant the pain was double when shot by a Turian gun than by a Terran shooter. Not exactly a nice scenario then.

However, other than the insane speed, Turian guns were sorely lacking in other performance department. First off, their bullets were purely kinetic, there were no additional effects to increase the damage dealt. To say that they were purely armor penetration would not be a great stretch. There was also no yawing effect, thus damage to flesh was minimal. And even then, even the prowess in anti-armour fights was dubious at best. Their insanely high speed meant great air friction and tremendous heat, which led to a very brief moment they spent going through the body and cauterize the wound. The high muzzle velocity and great air friction also led to the grain being lit up in air, painting a clear spot on the position of the shooter. In terms of warfare, it practically reduced stealth to zero. Fourthly, their momentum was abnormally low, even much lower than a handgun shot in the early twenty-first century. A factor of ten to be precise. The stopping power of the Turian rifle was pretty much zero, giving no advantage in stopping a surging charge.

Meanwhile, the Terran arsenal (read: their history of warfare) provided a much more adaptable ammunition systems, ranging from armour penetration to hollow points to defeat armoured as well as unarmoured targets. Their guns were also configured in a bullpup design, meaning the trigger was in front of the magazine, thus saving weight and overall length. This was quite crucial in prolonged or close-quarter combat. Furthermore, it seemed that the Turian guns were incapable of modding, as in attaching any other tools on it. While the idea was not precisely counter-productive (the most famous example would be the AK/AKM series), having one or two more tools never hurt in the long run. However, the lack of bayonet attachment drew serious questions on the sanity of the designers. At least, it meant the humans would have another advantage for fighting close.

But, before that, the humans would have to close in first, which was quite a challenge by itself. The accuracy of the gun, both at semi- and fully-automatic mode, was frightening. It just had a very small deviation in standard range – and the very shift was more likely due to environmental factors than due to design or operator's error. In fact, its precision and accuracy was comparable to a DMR in the arsenal of Terran Federation. To think that these were _assault_ guns… General Williams had to hope that his men could caught the Turians in an ambush, ultilise the urban setting, and _not_ engage the aliens on an open field without cover or support.

In addition, the Turian guns also came with a virtually limitless ammo supply. A metal block alone could sustain a soldier in intense combat for weeks, if not months. The trade off for this was that the soldiers failed to have sustained fire on the field. The operation resulted in a tremendous amount of heat, even much more than what generated by chemical explosions in Terran gun. While the humans could simply use the air to cool down their guns, the Turians would have to forcefully implement the matter. They would have to manually activate the cooling feature or else the gun would automatically deploy it, effectively shut it down. In general, a full minute and twenty second of consecutive shooting would force the gun to shut down for twenty seconds, the disruption was a bit too frequent. On the other hand, the firing rate was quite high and the whole gun was very light… It was an acceptable trade off though.

"So, in short, sir, this gun was basically a wet dream of a technician after having a heavy drinking with a spec-op soldier."

To be fair, he had a point. There were too many "cool" features there. Sure, the ammunition might be not the best on the market, but it was still able to do the job while looking absolutely cool. That was probably enough to sell on the idea for the soldiers. Besides, being a General and well aware of its shortcomings, using the gun had it certain allure.

And he wondered what would the Turian think about the human's guns though. Based on the given information from the Quarians… May be it would be something on the line of a Krogan-designed, Turian-produced, Salarian-modded, Volus-financed, Elcor-tested, Drell-and-Hanar-sponsored and Asari-used gun. After all, a human's gun was brutal in combat prowess, utilitarian in design, sophisticated and lean in modifications, affordable (cheap) in production yet still durable. With its design, it would not be far-fetched if some assassins actually enjoyed using it and gave recommendations. Therefore, a young and idealistic Asari Maiden would love to pick up such a gun and explore the galaxy.

Or at least, that was what the General would love to happen.


End file.
